Damask Heart
by WinterSunshine
Summary: Back in Forks after torturous months apart, Beau and Edythe are ready to face any challenge together. With graduation approaching, Edythe knows it's only a matter of time before Beau gets what he wants-immortality. But first, they have to get through a battle with a pack of newborns, all intent on taking Beau's life. That, and ever waiting for an actual proposal. Rate M justincase
1. Prologue

_._

 _Wait—what was that?_

Sarah's inquiry broke my concentration, and the sounds of my family's duel in the clearing flickered from my mind. Now, I watched the slim, sandy wolf glance warily around herself. Her ears perked, straining to make sense of whatever she'd heard approaching in the forest.

Surely, her heightened senses had picked up the trail of a deer, a bear, or another woodland creature. There was nobody else out here—it was just us; I had made sure of that.

However, unwilling to take any chances, I prodded the surrounding area for any thoughts.

 _You seriously thought you could hide him from me? I thought you knew me better than that, Edythe…_

The malicious, sneering mental voice froze me to the spot.

No… No… _No, it_ _ **couldn't**_ _be!_

Sarah's nostrils flared, her ears twitching as two pairs of footsteps drew closer, whisper soft, and then we caught their scent on the carrying breeze.

I recognized them both immediately—one was the distinctly female cloy from Beau's bedroom. And the other… The other scent I would have known anywhere. I'd memorized his fragrance dozens of times over, to ensure I had it right. It was the fragrance I'd tracked for weeks on end... The scent I would _never_ forget…

Victor.

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 **A/N:** Just a short preface for you all. The first chapter will be posted within a couple of hours! (If you're confused, Sarah = Seth.)

Also, the playlist is up over on 8tracks, if you're interested - 8tracks wintersunshine/damask-heart


	2. Situation

**A/N:** As promised, mere hours later—here it is! As you can see, I finally came up with a name for this installment—I really wanted to stay with the 'D' theme.

Also, you'll probably notice I rated this one M instead of T simply due to the violent and (vaguely, unendurably tense) sexual natures of this one. As well as some occasional language—mainly between Edy and Jules ;)

Thank you guys so much for getting me here—I can't believe we've made it this far in the series in such a short amount of time—with no intent of stopping, anytime soon!

Enjoy this first chapter, inspired by Banners' "Firefly"!

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I was spending my time as I had most evenings as of late—wearing a track into the pale carpet of my family's front room. The thoughts— _He doesn't know what he's sacrificing! He has no idea of the implications his choice will have! He can't possibly comprehend what he's giving up. He's not_ _ **ready**_ _!—_ were ragged and worn with over-use, and yet I had found no respite from the anxiety. The answerless qualms revolved around and around inside my head, haunting me with their heavy load.

I tried to listen to the conversation Jessamine and Eleanor were having regarding the recent situation in Seattle—a newborn, or possibly a small group of them—were causing unnecessary ruckus, enough to alert local law enforcement. Upturned, fiery vehicles, bodies beaten to a pulp, littered with strange bite and claw marks, entire structures burned to the ground… It was obvious to us what was going on here.

"If it gets too much worse, I think we should take action ourselves," Jess worried. She knew as well as I did that the Volturi would step in if the group became any more conspicuous, and she didn't want them even as close as Seattle, fearing they'd come here.

"Why wait?" Eleanor argued, eager to fight _someone_ , "I say we head out there this weekend… Assess the situation, and if they're too uncontrollable…" She shrugged, barely bothered, "We take 'em down."

Jessamine said something else, but I had already walked out of the room, trying _not_ to listen. The possible presence of even more rabid, undisciplined vampires made my current separation from Beau even _more_ unbearable.

This was undoubtedly the hardest time of day for me—the interim between when classes ended, and my Charlie-ratified visiting hours began. I had gone back and forth over whether I should tell him the truth about what had happened—that Beau had truly saved my life.

Archie and I had discussed at length whether or not knowing as much of the truth as was appropriate would ease Charlie's rage. Until now, Archie had seen that it would solve nothing. But every day, the possibility had become more and more apparent, and he thought that if I went to speak with him in a few evenings while Beau was at work, that it would ease some of his enmity toward me.

Though I didn't care whether Charlie's feelings toward me were accepting or not, I did care for how he treated Beau, and Archie had seen that this may ease things between them. If Charlie could glean a fraction of insight into the hasty actions his son had taken, maybe he would release his iron fist of fury and overbearing parental authority.

Desperate to put my anxious thoughts to rest, I tried to picture what Beau would be doing right now. Cooking dinner, the aromatic cloy of garlic and onion marring his delicious fragrance… Talking with Charlie about their days as he moved about the kitchen with an ease that was stunning.

As much as the sight and smell of human food disgusted me, it was worth enduring just to watch Beau in the kitchen. In all other circumstances, he tended to be so clumsy and unsure—but armed with a spatula and a frying pan, Beau was confident, articulate, and more desirable than I ever could have dreamed possible.

In the interest of his wellbeing, I'd attempted to take up the hobby of cooking, myself. After all, what kind of eventual fiancée-and-then-wife would I be if I couldn't cook for him? But I had no idea if I was anywhere near as adept at the skill as Beau naturally was.

Where before, the Cullen kitchen had been a spotless show room tableau, now the counters were more often than not dotted with all the appliances one could need, and a full refrigerator of food. If one were to stumble into the kitchen, no one would suspect we _weren't_ humans who needed to eat.

"That is _so_ nasty," Eleanor said one day as she came in through the backdoor and found me whipping eggs into a frothy mess. She suppressed a shudder as she peeked over my shoulder and caught a whiff of the raw nastiness. "Humans actually _eat_ that?"

"Apparently," I replied, appraising the mixing bowl in front of me with as much interest as was warranted—which was not much. I frowned into the bowl and asked, "Do you think I'm doing this right?"

"Pfft," Eleanor guffawed, "Why are you asking me? _I_ have no idea!"

Unable to entirely quash her curiosity, she set the bag of spark plugs she'd purchased for Royal on the counter and went to peek in the frying pan on the stove.

She abruptly recoiled. " _Ugh_! What _is_ that?"

"Bacon."

Her mind went blank with confusion. "Who the hell would _do_ such a thing to a pig?" she finally wondered, plucking up the bag and continuing on toward the garage to deliver the supplies to Royal. She'd had enough.

Now, I doubted very much that Beau would be cooking up a bacon and cheese omelet for his father. If I was accurate in my research, eggs were more commonly seen as a breakfast or brunch food, and though they were often used in various recipes, they were rarely the starring act of a dinner dish.

Today was Monday, which probably meant Beau was making chicken. As far as human fare went, this was one of the more endurable ones for me. Even so, cooked meat turned my stomach. It was just so _wrong_ , so controversial. And though I couldn't bring myself to imagine feeding on _poultry_ , nevertheless, the idea did not sit well with me.

Between the food preparations, he would also be taking care of his homework, possibly beginning to revise for final exams, and—I knew—worrying, as always, about Julie Black…

 _Black…_ Even thinking the name brought the instinctual, age-old rush of reflexive fight into my system. The urge swelled like a balloon inside my chest, but more than that was the voracious churn of displeasure inside my stomach. She could stay along as she liked. I wasn't bothered, whatsoever, by her avoidance.

But Beau was… And so I could not bring myself to be totally happy over the object of their discord. Despite our confrontation with her in the woods behind his house over four weeks prior, Beau had obviously not felt any closure over the matter. I knew for a fact that he thought about her often, and the realization that he cared so much for the dog perplexed me entirely. That voracious churning in my stomach came into sharp focus again—though I wouldn't say it was so much jealousy rather than severe disapproval.

I sighed, doing the best I could to push aside the roiling turmoil inside me, and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 6:52—close enough to seven o' clock now that Charlie would let me inside when I showed up on the front porch in a matter of minutes.

I mounted the stairs and headed toward the third level to retrieve the manila envelope I'd left on the edge of my leather couch, filled to the brim with every college application slip I could locate. It was pretty late in the year for college applications, but this was one thing on Beau's human experience list I wasn't willing to let go of.

I had been made privy through many generations of minds that college was an undeniable rite of passage into adulthood for many young men and women. Though so far, Beau had fought me tooth and nail on every college application I'd begged him to fill out—insisting it would be years before college even entered his newly immortal mind—but he didn't see what I saw in the concept.

Maybe, if he could see the novelty of a college experience, he would be willing to postpone the date of his change from human to inhuman, just for a little while.

And I was all about grasping at straws these days.

I exhaled heavily, knowing I would most likely end up filling most of these out myself anyway. I tucked the stack underneath my arm, grabbed my bag and keys, and headed for the door.

The rain was just a slow drizzle when I pulled onto Beau's street and parked in front of the house. Inside, they were talking about Beau's plans for the Fall. He'd received his first acceptance in the mail this evening, and Charlie was brimming with pride for his son. He was excited for him, wanting him to embrace the opportunity to go off and spread his wings—it had been an opportunity Charlie hadn't really had the chance for, other than his short two years at the police academy. He hoped it would put some distance between the two of us, that Beau would make some new friends, and meet someone Charlie thought was actually worthy of his son's time and affections.

They discussed tuition prices briefly, Beau rejecting his father's offers to help—surprise, surprise—and then Charlie asked Beau about my own plans. He suspected we were devising a plan to run off into the sunset together, and he wasn't all that happy about it.

"Uh…" Beau hesitated, and I recognized my cue.

In a flash, I had gathered my things from the passenger seat, and was across the street and up the porch steps. I knocked gingerly on the door, and inside the house, Beau's response was immediate.

The chair scraped across the worn linoleum as he practically catapulted himself from his chair.

"Go away," Charlie muttered under his breath. Charlie was not one to act out rightly rude to a woman, but he suspected he was alone in his thoughts and quiet griping. Little did he know just how much of his displeasure I was privy to.

I suppressed my smile as I heard Beau skitter down the short hallway, nearly slipping on the rug in the front entry. His heart was suddenly rocketing in his chest, and I heard him pause just on the other side of the door. He drew a steadying breath, and then he yanked the door open.

If my heart were still beating, it would have stopped at the sight of him. His eyes were radiant beams of limpid light as they travelled my face, and eventually locked with my own. I would never tire of appraising his perfect countenance, and I took inventory of his every flawless feature.

His thick, dark hair, the smooth, soft skin of his throat. The sculptured shape of his jaw and cheekbones. The lush bow of his lips, which, now, were stretched into a wide, lopsided grin.

Aware that Charlie was making his way toward us, I resisted the urge to lean up on my toes to press my lips to his, and instead reached for his warm, soft hand, lacing my fingers through his.

"Hey," he said quietly, rubbing his thumb over the back of mine, eliciting what felt like an injection of pure bliss into my bloodstream. The delicate warmth of his skin originated in my hand, but it quickly climbed my arm and settled in my chest.

Aware that Charlie was watching now, I lifted our interlocked hands and brought his palm to the side of my face, holding it there with both of my own. For a moment, I let my eyes slide shut, basking in the sweet clouds of ambrosia I could smell coming off his skin. "Hey," I finally replied, smiling up into his face, "How was your afternoon?"

A very slight pucker appeared between his brows. "Slow."

I laughed, softly, indecently delighted that he felt as much pain during our periods of separation as I did. "For me, as well."

I turned my face just slightly so the tip of my nose could brush the soft, inside part of his wrist, and inhaled the fragrance of his blood. As ever, the perfume of his sweet ichorous fluid set my throat on fire, but compared to prior experiences, this was a negligible consequence of our love.

I doubted Beau would ever be able to comprehend just what the belief that he'd died had done to me, how much it had changed things. Where before, it had taken my every modicum of self-control to resist giving in to the urge to feed, now the effort had all but been extinguished.

I could not imagine any sort of harm coming to him—the thought of it tore me apart inside, caused me to feel real, physical pain. He had never been safer in my presence than he was now. Though he would always be my singer, the banal instinct to hunt him and satisfy my own self-serving need had been buried underneath the stronger reflex to keep him safe, to keep him alive, to keep his heart _beating_.

The physical burn of thirst in my throat was frivolity compared to the savage destruction I'd incurred when I believed I had caused him to leap from a cliff to his death.

Halfway down the hall, Charlie stood with his arms folded across his chest, disapproval clear in his thinly veiled thoughts.

I remembered my manners and turned to him, letting our hands fall between us again.

"Good evening, Chief Swan."

 _Manipulative… Coercive… Conniving…_ "Edythe," he responded, working to sound polite.

Of course, I understood his viewpoint entirely. He only wanted happiness for his only child, and he thought I didn't deserve Beau. Well, that made two of us.

Now, I held up the manila envelope, pressing it over my mouth just as Beau leaned in for a kiss. I knew Charlie wasn't in any kind of mood to witness the physical forms of affection his son and his girlfriend might display. After all, I was _trying_ to get back on his good side.

"What's that?" Beau inquired, straightening.

"Applications," I replied brightly, grinning up at him, already guessing at what his reaction would be.

"Great," he groaned, rolling his eyes, "Just what I need… _More_ college applications." I knew he hoped we'd worn out all of our options, that the—in his eyes—futile efforts had been exhausted. I had tried every single school out there that I suspected might hold the slightest of a flame to his desire. There had to be _somewhere_ that would make him happy—that would elicit just enough curiosity to push the inevitable change off even for a few more months.

As it just so happened, I didn't feel the slightest bit guilty using the Cullen family name—or our copious monetary resources—to sway the various boards' decisions and deadlines. Though many of them had long since passed—I blamed myself entirely for Beau not having seized the opportunity to apply earlier, while we'd been apart—they were willing to make exceptions for my mother and her cheque book.

Carine was only happy to help—hoping with us much zeal as I that Beau would find something desirable and age-worthy in a secondary school experience.

Laughing at Beau's disgruntled, suspicious expression—no doubt he suspected this; he was always surprising me with his quick wit and intelligence—I led him toward the kitchen.

Charlie trailed behind quietly, his thoughts remaining belligerent.

I laid the envelope on the kitchen table as Beau cleared water glasses and the frayed and ancient copy of _Frankenstein_ he'd been reading. I felt my brow furrow as he tossed the paperback unceremoniously on the counter next to the microwave.

I couldn't understand what he would find so fascinating in a story about monsters.

Charlie, who was still standing in the kitchen doorway as Beau and I slid into our seats, suddenly spoke: "Edythe, Beau and I were just talking about next year. Have you decided where you're going to school yet?"

It was not very often that I got a clear glimpse into Charlie's resistant mind. Tonight, however, his agenda had never been clearer—he hoped I would be accepted into a college where the weather was so lousy, Beau would never want to even visit me. He would have liked to see us far, far apart, giving his son ample opportunity to meet new, much nicer girls.

I smiled saccharinely up at him. "Not yet, no. I've received a few acceptance letters, but I'm still weighing my options."

"Where have you been accepted?" _Please don't say Alaska, please don't say Alaska…_

Self consciously, I listed off a few of my recent acceptations. "Syracuse… Harvard… Dartmouth… and I just got accepted to the University of Alaska Southeast today." I struggled to stifle my cheeky grin, and Beau coughed to hide an ill-concealed burst of laughter.

Charlie gaped openly, obviously, needlessly, impressed. After all, my vast array of knowledge was more due to the convenient glut of space inside my head and my photographic memory, both by-products of my vampiric nature, than it was my actual demeanor and study habits.

"Wow," he said, "Ivy League… That's pretty… Well, that's something. Yeah, but the University of Alaska… you wouldn't really consider that when you've got Harvard and Dartmouth on the table, would you? I mean, your parents would want you to…"

"Oh, I think my parents would be happy with wherever I choose to go," I interjected calmly, "Besides, I've heard Alaska's landscape can be quite striking in the fall and winter months. I'm not afraid of the cold."

Beau's amused grin distracted me from the grumbling of Charlie's thoughts.

"Hey—what a coincidence!" he said brightly, his tone thick with feigned innocence. He fought back another bout of laughter as he continued, "I just got _my_ acceptance letter to U of A today!"

"Wow! That is _such_ fluke! How funny!"

Beau threw faux-baffled hands in the air. "So weird."

Charlie, not entirely fooled by our bit of play-acting, glared back and forth between us. "Fine," he mumbled, conceding defeat, "I'm going to go watch the game." He turned and pointed at Beau. "Nine-thirty," he told him.

Beau cleared his throat. "Uh, Dad?" he said cautiously, "Remember what we just talked about? My parole for good behavior?"

What was this? Was his father finally getting over his grudge? This part of the conversation must have occurred before I'd arrived.

Charlie huffed exasperatedly. "Right. Okay, _ten-_ thirty. You still have a curfew on school nights."

"Beau's no longer grounded?" I clarified, suddenly excited by the idea of visiting with Beau somewhere _other_ than the tiny kitchen of his father's house. Though our nights spent curled together in his bed were as close to heaven as one could get, I still couldn't help but crave a change of scenery.

I knew my family would be happy to have Beau come around again—though Archie had somehow scored free-reign of the Swan house, completely disregarding the visiting hours Charlie had imposed upon _me_ , the remainder of my family was missing his company.

"Terms are conditional," Charlie grunted. _What's it to you?_ he wanted to spit.

"That's great news!" I enthused, ignoring his unspoken rudeness, "Archie's been dying to get out of the house—I know he and Beau have been talking about wanting to see a couple of new movies."

I smiled at Beau, thinking of all the places I would love to visit with him. Maybe he'd finally relented some on his stubbornly ingrained gender roles, and he'd allow me to treat him to a nice meal.

Unfortunately, my musings were interrupted.

"No!" Charlie all but exploded, the alarm more apparent in his thoughts than the anger.

"Dad, chill," Beau said, embarrassed and confused by Charlie's reaction. He cast his father a puzzled glance.

"I don't want you guys going to Seattle right now," Charlie said through clenched teeth. As disapproving as he was of me, he wasn't completely callous, and he still included me in his protective realm of instinct.

There wasn't a need to tell him that wasn't necessary.

"Huh?" Beau said.

"I told you about that story in the paper—there's some kind of gang on a killing spree in Seattle and I want you two to steer clear, okay?"

Beau obviously didn't see the problem here, and he started to roll his eyes.

"No," I interjected quickly, "We wouldn't go to Seattle. Of course not. I was actually thinking Portland."

For the first time that evening, I noticed the newspaper on Charlie's seat, and plucked it up to scan the headline.

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 **DEATH TOLL ON THE RISE—POLICE FEAR GANG ACTIVITY.**

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Humans were always so quick to place the blame for the horrendous crimes in their world on gang activity or an overzealous murderer. Little did they know that a lot of the time, it was more supernatural than they could believe.

I glanced at the alarming death toll as I began to skim the article, and I wondered just how much longer the Volturi would allow this to go on for? If they were good for nothing else in this world, this was one area they could make good on.

But they hadn't stepped in yet, though it was doing more than raise human suspicion now. Seattle and surrounding area residents were scared, taking precautions, increasing their security measures. They were naively unaware that their high-tech alarm systems and hidden pistols would give them no advantage whatsoever over the prowling, bloodthirsty demons actually responsible for these killing sprees.

Distantly, I heard Charlie exit the room, but I wasn't really listening.

The article the Post had written this morning gave more detail than I'd really processed back at home. Even then, I hadn't really been listening to my sisters' conversation—but I realized my error now. I really should have been listening. It was much worse than I'd thought.

"What—" Beau started to ask, but Charlie's entire attention was not deflected yet.

I lifted one finger to his lips without taking my eyes off the newspaper article, and slid the first application and a pen across the table to him, with my other hand. "I think you can recycle your essays for this one. Same questions."

I expected an argument, but with only a resigned huff, he picked up the pen and began to fill out the required information.

As I finished with the article and pushed the paper aside, I realized that we had been very wrong. The former assumption that it had been anywhere between a single vampire and a trio of nomads was deleted in the face of this acceleration of events. The amount of victims was too high, the time frame too compressed, for any other postulation to make sense. At _least_ five—probably more.

It was difficult to believe the reality of the situation—that this had been going on for just over two weeks now, accelerating at these alarming rates, and still, the Volturi did not come. Archie would tell us when they decided to, but I was appalled that they had not made the decision yet.

Jessamine's tactical preventative measures were in the right place. If the crimes inflated anymore, we would have no choice but to take matters into our hands. If not, we might be implicitly looped into the entire thing. I didn't put it past the Volturi to find some way to frame us as accomplices, at the _least_.

I had not even postulated what kind of effect this would have on Beau's safety. Who would stay to protect him if our hand was forced, and we did have to travel to Seattle? He would probably insist the wolves could protect him just fine, but—

" _Seriously_ , Edythe?"

"Hmm?" I turned to look at him. He was appraising me with a skeptical expression across the table. He'd shoved the papers aside and the pen was sitting on top of them.

"Dartmouth?" he said cynically, pointing at the title on the application.

"I think you'd like New Hampshire," I insisted, visualizing the picturesque state. "Lots of night classes for me, and plenty of acres of forest for hiking. More than enough wildlife for the both of us." I grinned at him, feeling the dimples in my cheeks pop out.

Beau's expression didn't shift.

"If it's money you're worried about, I'll certainly let you pay me back… I'll even charge you interest."

At the mention of monetary involvement, Beau grimaced. "I don't think so." He slumped back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest and scowling adorably.

"You know, you don't look nearly as scary as you'd like to when you do that," I murmured, leaning over to touch his wrinkled forehead.

He didn't say anything, only turned to stare out the rain-streaked window.

I took a breath, preparing for the resistance I'd already seen coming. "If you won't fill them out, I will," I threatened, "You and I both know I sign your name better than you do."

Beau groaned in exasperation, and rolled his eyes toward my face. "You're taking this way too far, you know," he complained, "You and I both know Alaska is as good as any other alibi. What's the use in applying for more places than we need to? I'm not _going_ to any of them, anyway. I won't be in any condition to actually attend classes… Who do we think we're fooling?"

I started to speak.

"It'll be good for Charlie to think I'm going off to school, sure. But there's no use in flushing a bunch of money down the toilet for no reason."

Now it was my turn to pout. "I thought the timing was still undecided." It hurt to realize that he just thought of all of this as a cover-up story. I'd been betting on his excitement to attend post-secondary. He needed more _time_. It was too _soon_!

"You might like college," I wheedled, "Even a semester or two. There's no need to rush things, Beau—there are a lot of things you haven't had time to experience yet."

"Edythe, be reasonable," he rebutted, and I felt my eyebrows pull down into a scowl. _Me_ be reasonable? "Sulpicia gave me till graduation. Pushing it too far after that is just messing with fire—it's too dangerous."

The pain lashed at me, and in response, furious protectiveness lifted her tawny head. I would _not_ let him be scared into his transformation—as if it was the only way to keep him safe.

I shook my head at him. "You let me worry about that. There's no danger yet." He didn't look convinced, so I leaned forward to lay my hand over his. "Beau, you can take all the time you need. I'll keep you safe."

"I don't need any time," he protested, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. His gaze drifted, settling on the newspaper I'd pushed aside, tracking from left to right as he read the headline.

I read the understanding in his eyes, and knew what he must be thinking. "I want you realize what you're getting yourself into, Beau. I acknowledge that myself and my family may have set an unrealistic precedence with the lives we lead—Carine goes to work everyday, the rest of us shop, go to school, go to movies and shows. We interact daily with other humans, but please remember that we are the exception to the rule. Most of our species are not so… Tame."

Beau's eyes snapped up to meet mine, and his hand came down over the leading article. He realized right away what I was talking about. "You mean a… A _vampire_ "—he whispered the word—"is doing this?"

"We've been keeping an eye on the situation for a couple of weeks now. All the signs are present—the incongruous disappearances, always taking place at nighttime, the poorly discarded corpses, the lack of fingerprints or other physical evidence… It's obvious it's the work of a newborn. And since no one seems to want to take responsibility for the neophyte…" For a moment, fury twisted inside me. To create one of our kind, and then to leave them to their own, savage devices was beyond cruelty, beyond irresponsibility.

I realized that Beau's heart rate had picked up, his breathing becoming shallow, and shame lashed its whip across my back. Immediately I felt chastened. I hadn't meant to be so blunt, to frighten him, and I smoothed my fingers over the back of his knuckles.

"Regardless, it's not our problem. We wouldn't even pay attention to the situation if it weren't going on so close to home. This happens more often than you'd think… The existence of monsters results in monstrous consequences…"

I tried to find his eyes, to measure the level of fear in them, but they were fixed on the page again. Though his mind was, as ever, silent to me, I could see the obvious thoughts flitting through his mind: Would he be that way as a newborn? Would his thirst drive his every impulse like these newborns?

Finally, he spoke: "It won't be like that for me. I'll have you to watch out for me, to teach me… We'll live in Antarctica if we have to."

I snorted delicately at the unexpectedly entertaining image _that_ conjured in my mind. It was true—I would go to any and all lengths to keep Beau from turning wild and savage. Including, but not limited to, subjecting myself to a diet mainly consisting of slippery, grounded fowl.

"Penguins. Lovely."

All the tension washed away when he laughed. "Okay, maybe not Antarctica, then. We'd better stick to Alaska—there's bears there, right?"

"Tons," I affirmed, "Polar bears, too—very ferocious. And the wolves get quite large."

Beau flinched as if I'd struck him, and I immediately realized the error I'd made.

"I'm sorry," I blurted, "I didn't mean that literally. If you find the idea of hunting wolves offensive, we'll simply take that option off the table." I tried to keep my tone lighthearted, but I could hear the coolness seeping back in, as my familiar friend anger took her usual seat behind my sternum.

Again, I cursed the woman child who had caused Beau so much strife. For weeks on end I'd worked to put Julie Black entirely out of my mind—the moment I _had_ forgotten about her, the one off-handed comment I'd made had speared Beau through with misery.

I leaned forward, trying to catch his downturned eyes. "I didn't think, Beau. I'm so sorry—really, I am."

"S'no biggie," he muttered, but the aquamarine in his eyes was fractured and tense. I waited with bated breath, wondering if he would give me anymore than that.

The sadness in his expression was heartbreaking, and so I did the next best thing I could think of to comfort him. Because my words were obviously not getting through to him, I looped my arms around his neck and leaned my head on his shoulder.

We stayed like that for a few moments, not saying anything.

"It's just…" he said after a long beat, sighing, "I was sort of already thinking about her before you got here. Charlie said she's having a pretty tough time right now… I can't help but think I have something to do with that."

"You have _nothing_ to do with it, Beau. There is absolutely no need for you to feel guilty." If that girl had even alluded to the idea that _any_ of this was Beau's fault, I would…

"I just can't help but feel things would smooth over nicer if I talked to her, y'know? Apologized. Besides, that was kind of part of Charlie's deal—"

The discomfiture behind my ribs came out sounding like anger, though I knew it was more anxiety than anything else. "The werewolves are volatile—they're too dangerous, Beau. It's not an option."

Beau straightened, and when I pulled back, I wasn't surprise to see the boldness in his eyes. "She won't hurt me," he said, "I used to spend almost all of my time in La Push, and nothing ever happened."

But his voice broke on the last word, and the sudden shiftiness in his eyes told me there was more to the story than he was alluding to. As if to confirm my suspicions, his heart beat faster, a single patch of color blooming on the side of his neck.

He may not have been hurt, but something had definitely happened…

"The wolves are unstable creatures by nature, Beau. Sometimes the people near them get hurt."

The image of a young man's deformed face flashed through my mind. I didn't know him, but Carine had described her memory with perfect clarity for me.

It wasn't too long ago, soon after Sam Uley had made her transformation, that she'd nearly taken the face off the boy she loved—simply by losing control of her temper for one split second. The Quileutes had been loath to take Eli Young to the hospital where she worked, but even they were not too prideful to acknowledge that Carine was the best surgeon around.

And it was a good thing they'd taken him in. Carine had been able to repair the damage Sam had inflicted—she'd even restored sight to his mangled right eye, a feat that might have been altogether impossible for any other surgeon without her perfect eyesight and supernaturally steady hand.

At the time, the smell of werewolf had been strong—but Carine had assumed it was simply the heavy flow of his blood, and the Quileute DNA laced within it, that brought on the stench. She hadn't realized at the time that a werewolf had caused the damage. The people who'd brought him had claimed bear attack, knowing they could never reveal the truth of what had happened.

"You don't know them like I do," Beau said now, very softly. I fixed my eyes on his face—his intact, beautiful, perfect face.

Terrified by the very real possibility that he would most likely incur permanent damage if he insisted on putting himself in such idiotic situations, my words came out sharper than intended: "I know them better than you think, Beau. I was here the last time."

He gave me a questioning look. "The last time?"

"We started crossing paths about seventy years ago… We had just settled near Hoquiam for the first time. It was before Archie and Jessamine had joined us, but we still outnumbered the wolves. Even so, it nearly came to a fight—as I said, wolves are primarily ruled by their tempers and are very difficult to reason with. But somehow Carine convinced Enli Black that coexisting peacefully was possible, and we were able to make a truce."

I paused, recalling Carine's perfect peace and tranquility in the face of the ferocious, slobbering beasts. It terrified me to think about what might have occurred if I hadn't been there to translate, and if Carine's compassionate nature had not been so apparent to the wolves, penetrating even their instinctive furor.

So much time had passed since we'd ever again stumbled across one of their kind, that we had just assumed that the danger of our presence, which had spurred their wrath, had faded. With the treaty in place, we were able to prove our trustworthiness, and eventually they began to stop phasing out. When the years went by and Enli's lineage showed no signs of shifting, we came to the conclusion that the worst was over.

"We thought the line had died out with Enli—that the genetic quirk, which allowed the transmutation, had been phased out of the gene pool," I murmured, lost in memory and daydream.

Suddenly it was clear to me. It was only after Beau had arrived that the Quileute phasing had gone into overdrive again. I lifted my head to glare accusingly at him.

"It seems your bad luck _does_ possess some sort of supernatural pull. Do you realize your limitless gravitational draw for all things dangerous literally resurrected a decades-long-dormant werewolf gene?"

Beau looked confused, his eyebrows pulling together. "But I didn't…"

"Of course you—"

"No, Edythe," he said more firmly now, " _I_ didn't bring the wolves back. _You_ did. Well, not you specifically, but your family, in general…"

"Excuse me?" I said. I felt winded with shock.

"Jules told me that your family coming back set the phasing off again… I thought you knew that…"

My shock quickly gave way to anger. How _dare_ the immature woman child speak of things she had no earthly idea of?! She wasn't there when it began—she didn't know! She had no clue! The spoken word of their history could only give her so many facts—it was something she would have had to be there for, to realize the strength of trust the treaty had instilled between the wolf pack and my family. It was ludicrous. They _trusted_ us. There would be no logical reason for them to start phasing again in our presence—even generations later! And as far as I knew, that same treaty was _still in commerce_ , so it made no sense!

"Is that what they believe?" I asked, struggling to keep the ice out of my voice.

"C'mon—it has to be more than coincidence. Seventy years ago, you guys showed up—and so did the wolves. You left, and so did they. Then you came back now, and they're back, too."

I wasn't convinced—we had done nothing to earn their distrust. We'd proven we would not cross them!

"Carine will be interested in that theory." She had always been fascinated with the wolves—for whatever reason—and she would probably like to add this snippet of information to her catalogue.

Though I wasn't particularly interested in the concept, I found myself wondering if a trigger set in motion so long ago could have such lasting repercussions. I struggled to fit the incongruous puzzle pieces together. Our appearance seven decades ago and our reappearance now had little correspondence to each other. _If_ our presence so many years ago had set such a thing in motion, wouldn't our leaving have solved the shape-shifting; why would it be exacerbated in our absence?

Mentally, I shook my head. Perhaps Carine would have more insight about it.

"Interesting, but not exactly relevant. Regardless, it makes little difference."

Beau released a load of breath, but he didn't sound angry, or even exasperated. When he got up from his seat, my eyes automatically followed his movements. He passed to the brightly painted cupboards and then turned to face me again, bracing his hands against the edge. He stared at the floor in front of his feet, seeming deep in thought.

Something in my chest yanked painfully in response to the distance between us.

Thankfully, he didn't stay away long, and when he made his way back toward me, there was new strength in his eyes.

When he pulled his chair back out, he repositioned it closer to my own. He lowered himself back into it, and then leaned forward on his knees, holding out one of his hands. Automatically, I looped my fingers through his, and regarded his resolute expression warily.

"Look," he said, "I know why you don't want me going there. I know you only want to keep me safe, but…" He paused, his brow creasing. I struggled to understand his inner dilemma, as if he were sifting for the right words, worried about offending me in some way. "Jules is my friend," he finally continued, "A friend that's in real rough shape right now. It wasn't too long ago that _I_ was the one in that position, and she was the one to help me through that. So… It's my turn to help her. I have to do _something_."

I felt my body lock down with the severity of my sudden stress. Though I could not read his thoughts and know for myself just _exactly_ what he'd gone through in the months I had not been here, I _was_ able to read others' thoughts.

The first week back at school had been the worst. There had not been a single mind I had encountered who had not put their worst images of a desolate, unresponsive Beau on display for me.

No, I could not know his exact thoughts—but I _did_ have an idea of what he'd been like during that time. And, as always, the images I didn't want to remember—but could not escape, because of course, my memory was photographic—barraged my psyche.

As if I could shield myself from the partial images, I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my face away, feeling my expression buckle underneath the pain. In these last few weeks, I had been _thankful_ I only had partial access to Charlie's mind. Surely, he had seen Beau at his worst. The person who had the next best idea of what Beau had gone through, of course, was Julie Black.

I shuddered to think of the horrible images she would show me if we were ever to come face-to-face again.

"If I live to be a hundred-thousand years old," I said, my voice trembling underneath the strain of my grievous shame, "I will never, _ever_ forgive myself for the pain I forced you to endure. For the _hell_ I put you through…" My voice shattered into silence, and I felt my shoulders bow underneath the weight of the burden.

"Hey," he crooned, and extricated his hands from mine so he could hold them alongside my averted face. He pulled, and knowing what he wanted, I turned my face toward him. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.

"Stop torturing yourself," he ordered—and his words, spoken so gently, seemed to have much more influence than they would have if he'd been shouting. A brick-sized lump welled in my throat, and my eyes burned dryly. I didn't deserve his gentleness. I didn't deserve his unrelenting tolerance. "You're here now. That's the part that matters."

He'd told me this so many times, had given me constant assurance of his forgiveness, but still, I could not bring myself to belief him.

"If only I had never left," I lamented, "You never would have felt the need to put your life in jeopardy for the simple effort of comforting a _dog_."

Again, he flinched. I hated to say anymore than I already had, but he didn't understand—he couldn't understand the anxiety that shook me to the core when I imagined him within ten feet of the uncontrolled, vile creature he called a 'friend'.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—I know how awful this is going to sound, but I _can't_ , Beau. I _can't_ risk losing you again. I know what it feels like to think I have, and I _would not_ survive going through that again. So please— _please_ , do this for me. Stay here, where you're safe, for _me_. Keep yourself out of harm's way as well as you are consciously able to. I promise you I'll do the best I can—but I can only do so much. You have to promise to make an effort, too."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"I don't want this to be a point of animosity between us, Beau; if you could only see. This isn't about me. This isn't about my feelings of jealousy, or even the age-old hate between vampire and werewolf. It's about _you. Your_ safety. _Your_ wellbeing. I can't let you go where I cannot go with you, where I cannot _protect_ you."

"Don't _worry_ ," he said, his eyes wide, translucent with sincerity, "I'll be fine."

The desperation, pressurized like an aerosol can inside of my chest, threatened to explode underneath the heat of the situation. He didn't _understand_! He wasn't _getting it_!

"Beau," I moaned, leaning in to hold myself against him. The strength of my anxiety, of all the worst possible scenarios running through my head, was so strong that I struggled to hold onto the realization that he was safe here, sitting very still in front of me. I pressed my face into his warm, soft neck, my breath catching. "Beau, I don't think you understand just how much I love you. I really don't think you do—I can't stand the thought of losing you. Please just agree with me on this," I begged him. When my breath hitched again, I realized how distraught I was with emotion. "Please. Please promise me."

He sighed, and his hand came up to cup the back of my hand, the other arm looping around my back as I curled into his chest.

"I can't," he said softly, "I'm sorry, but I can't make that promise. Jules is my friend, and I have to find a way to see her."

I clenched my teeth against the wailing scream of rage and frustrated desperation that wanted to escape my chest. To swallow it down was like consuming battery acid—bitter and wrong and awful.

He gave me no other choice, then.

I pulled back to look into his face, hating to lay this on him, hating to take _this_ stance, to be _that_ girlfriend, but I could not, _would_ not, allow him to put himself in any more danger.

"Then I'm afraid I'll have to stop you," I whispered, and my voice sounded raw with the restraint of my emotion. But we both heard the confidence in it. I would resort to forceful measures only if it was required.

Beau didn't say anything, but there was a metallic glint in his eye, and I knew this argument was _far_ from over. Instead, he pulled me back to his chest, resting his chin on top of my head.

Though I would _never_ speak my thoughts aloud, I was beginning to wonder if immortality _was_ the only way to keep him safe.

.

 **A/N:** Pretty sure I gender-swapped Ephraim for 'Emily' back in Daybreak, but I've since changed that. It was ill-thought out, but I've further generated that side of my character development, and have thus renamed her 'Enli' which means 'I saw a dog', which I thought was very appropriate. Lemme know if you have any questions about that, and when I get the time, I'll go back and fix the chapters in Daybreak where her other name occurs.

See you next time!


	3. Evasion

**A/N:** Major thanks to my big brother-in-law for helping me out with the mechanic scene at the end. Don't know how I would have known what I was doing without him!

I hope you enjoy this (super long, 22 page) chapter, lovelies!

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Though I had done this twelve times over in my very long, purposeless—until just over a year ago—life, it never failed to surprise me what the approach of graduation did to the students around me.

Nearly every one of the seniors' thoughts was frenetic with anxiety, anticipation, and even panic. With finals still ahead of us, most of the intellectually minded students hadn't quite gotten around to the excitement part yet.

Though every thought in my head today was harsher, louder, than usual, there was one voice that stood out above everyone else's. Beau and I strode hand-in-hand through the cafeteria door, Becca Cheney's thoughts nearly hysterical in my head.

… _Over a_ _ **hundred**_ _announcements to write out… And studying… And work… And that mix-up about my living situation in the Fall…_

Across the room, Allen had his arm over his girlfriend's shuddering shoulders. Her body had responded palpably to the panic she endured. She was tachycardic and close to hyperventilation, and I feared she might be on the brink of an anxiety attack.

She didn't seem to notice us as we took our seats.

"Beccs, don't worry," Allen tried to assuage her, "It's gonna be fine."

He was concerned for the girl he loved, of course, but he didn't understand the severity of her panic over the prospect of her graduation announcements. He couldn't hear the distorted, irrational thoughts that were stemming from what bit of logical remained in her anxiety-riddled brain chemistry.

Finally, Becca seemed to notice our presence, and glanced up at us, pushing her long, dark hair over her shoulders. "Edythe—have you sent your announcements out, yet?"

I smiled at her, careful to keep it soft and friendly, as not to frighten her. "All done."

Becca groaned. "Of course you are," she muttered under her breath, "Of course—everyone else but _me_ has their announcements sent out…" More loudly, she added, "My mom has a thousand cousins and she expects me to _hand-address_ one to everybody. I'm going to get carpal tunnel. I can't put it off any longer and I'm just dreading it."

 _Where did all my time go? Why did I put it off for so long…?_ Her thoughts continued to race, growing to such a frenzied rate they were almost indecipherable.

"Becca," Allen tried again, "If you're really dreading it so much, I can come over and help you out if you want me to."

"I'll help, too," Beau volunteered immediately, "If you don't mind my awful handwriting."

I smiled softly at him, smoothing my thumb over the back of his hand. It was so selfless of him to step up right away to volunteer. But I also knew it had to do with his attempts to appease Charlie's new guidelines. It was clear he wanted Beau to spend time with his friends—the ones outside of the Cullen family.

Besides, I had always liked Allen. Of most teenagers I'd ever met, Allen was good through and through. His thoughts had always seemed more benevolent than others', his patience and compassion for others unprecedented. It would good for Beau to spend some time with him, before… Before…

But I couldn't bring myself to complete the thought.

"Aren't you grounded?" Allen asked now. _I don't want him going out of his way to help Becca if it's only gonna get him in trouble._

"Nope," Beau said, grinning cheerily, "I got let out early for good parole. Who woulda thunk, hey?"

The group discussed the semantics of getting together, and I watched Beau's face as he talked animatedly. So many of the friends he'd made when he first came to Forks had left him behind during his heartache after I'd left him. I felt extremely ashamed for having played such a big part in it—I'd heard the words they wanted to say to me in their thoughts, but would never be brave enough to do so.

But despite everything, Allen and Becca had stayed faithfully by Beau's side. I considered myself lucky to have played a part in the conception of their relationship. I hoped, after we'd graduated and they'd gone off to college, that Allen and Becca would have a happy life together.

Allen's thoughts were more and more often oriented around the possibility of proposing Becca's hand in marriage—but his hesitations were rooted in the fact that they were so young, and he had no idea how Mr. Cheney would react to his infatuation with his daughter. Whether it was in a year, or in ten, I knew the prospect of their marriage was only an eventuality—I didn't need Archie's vision to see that.

Speaking of Archie's visions… I gave him a sideways look when I saw the grandiose ideas flitting through his mind, spurred by the revelation of Beau's recent freedom. At an astonishing rate, they grew to improbable proportions, and I was about to say something, when Beau spoke up.

"I was thinking something within the country, Archie. I'm not _that_ free." He smirked at my brother when Archie's expression grew crestfallen.

"Free is free," he grumbled, far too bothered for what the situation allowed.

Everybody broke into laughter—only Beau and I knew Archie certainly _was not_ joking.

Quickly placated by Beau's promise of a weekend celebration, they lapsed into an easy conversation about their options. Before too long, Beau seemed to lose interest in the conversation, though I was the only one who noticed.

At first, he just seemed distracted, but then the familiar v-shaped furrow appeared between his brows, and his eyes became troubled. When his knee started bouncing, I leaned in, preparing to ask him if he wanted to leave. We could sit in my car and talk—maybe he just needed some air.

Just then, Archie froze—abruptly cutting off mid-sentence, and lapsed into a jarring premonition. Jarring in the fact that it totally consumed him, and yet the flickering images were so indistinct and blurry, it was difficult to make out what it was we were looking at.

After a few seconds of his concentration, the gloom of the vision lifted a little, and the images were more clear: The Sol Duc river, the stretch of road between our house and town, the view of Beau's house from the shadows of the forest… And a flash of fiery red hair.

We narrowed our focus, physical response rising in our bodies.

But I knew even before I saw the sadistic crimson eyes, or the salacious smile on the feral vampire's too-perfect lips.

Victor would leap the expanse of the Swan property, coming to cling to the sill of Beau's bedroom window.

Archie's vision overtook me with just as much force as it had him, and I had to force myself to remember that I was holding Beau's hand—not to squeeze too tightly—that he was safe in the middle of the high school's cafeteria.

As much as the terror gripped me—Beau would be in jeopardy, I could not leave him for a minute!—equal volumes of malicious anticipation also funneled through my thoughts. Once my family and I instilled a safety plan for Beau, we would be free to wait for the sick monster to come our way, and finally, _finally_ , I would lay all my anxieties about the constant cloud—or, at least, one of them—hanging over Beau's head.

In only a few days' time, I would disassemble Victor's body, down to his littlest toes, set the pieces ablaze, and a part of my mind would blissfully be released from the agony it had endured for too long—constantly wondering where he was, when he would come, whether the four hour timeframe in which Beau worked an afternoon shift at Newton's was putting him in the hands of danger.

But, of course, I would not subject this bit of revelation to Beau. He had enough on his plate right now, and I would not add more to his burden. It would easily be taken care of over the course of an evening. While Beau slept peacefully, my family and I would do away with one of the qualms I knew was constantly bothering him.

I knew because he spoke of it in his sleep, and though his mumblings always alluded to his concern for _me_ in the face of an imagined showdown with Victor, I knew it was the entire premise he was worried about.

Becca and Allen were becoming confused, even worried, now, as Archie continued to stare fixedly, blankly, at nothing.

I waited half a second longer to see if he would respond to Allen's vocal prodding, but he remained unmoving, so I laughed to shift the attention from Archie to myself, and then I kicked him _hard_ underneath the table.

I would have earned a glare from Jessamine for that—she much rather preferred to deflect the attention and allow Archie's visions to play out to their end. She didn't believe in jarring him out of them physically, lest he miss something.

But there was nothing to miss now—and from the way the premonition was progressing, there was nothing else we would _like_ to see.

"Is it naptime already, Archie?" I quipped, locking my eyes on his, which quickly refocused. The tension in his shoulders relaxed, and he recovered quickly, easily.

"Sorry—got lost in thought for a sec there."

Becca laughed. "Story of my life!" she attempted to empathize.

.

To avoid answering the questions in Beau's eyes, I stayed extra close to his friends for the rest of the day. I chatted animatedly with them between classes, ensuring Beau would not have a moment of time alone with me to inquire about the answers he didn't need to worry about.

I had no hopes of brushing Archie's vision off, and I knew Beau had noticed the intense glance my brother and I had shared after the lunchtime conversation had gotten underway again. He'd decided with certainty that Victor would not visit Forks until Saturday evening, judging by the position of the moon in the sky he'd seen in his vision, but he'd known I would want to take extra precautions to remove Beau from the soon-to-be murder scene.

Truth be told, I was disappointed I wouldn't be here to do the dismantling myself. I'd spent quite a bit of time building up the moment inside of my head—but, of course, Beau's safety was of utter importance, and I wasn't going to send him off to Florida by himself.

After all, how many times would we have to separate ourselves to prove it just wasn't a good idea?

The vouchers my parents had gifted him for his eighteenth birthday were just shy of expiring, so the timing really was perfect. I just had to think of a way to bring it up without sounding suspicious.

When the final bell rang, we started out to the parking lot together. A momentary frisson of panic coursed through me when I realized all of our usual counterparts were either too far ahead of or behind us to strike up any form of natural conversation.

So I found myself doing something desperate. Something I swore I would never do while I remained sane.

"Hi, McKayla."

She slowed, just a couple feet ahead of us, and tossed her flaxen curls over her shoulder. She turned hesitantly, as if not quite sure she'd heard me right. When she saw me staring expectantly at her—trying to ignore the sudden frightened lurch of her heart—she slowed further. McKayla glanced around us, as if wondering if there was some other McKayla whose attention I was attempting to garner.

"Uh, hey," she said, allowing me to fall into step beside her, even though all the warning bells inside her head told her to move faster. "What's… Up?" She glanced warily at Beau. _What does she want? Why is she talking to me? Am I in some alternate universe?_

"How were your studies?" I inquired, matching my pace effortlessly with hers. Beau stumbled a bit in his attempt to catch up, and I blindly caught his hand to steady him.

"Um… Fine?" she said as we all headed toward the parking lot together. _Who calls them studies anymore? Weird._

I asked her every friendly query I could think of, resorting to drastic measures when I ran out of casual small talk.

"How's your Civic running?"

McKayla cast another bemused glance at Beau, who was trailing along behind us. "Fine," she replied automatically, and then remembered that it was only starting half of the time. "Actually," she corrected herself, "Not so great."

 _She's got a brother who's good with cars, right? Royal—he graduated last year? Maybe he'd know what to do…_

"What's going on with it?" The concerned expression on my face was surprisingly difficult to assume.

"I don't know," she admitted. "The ignition only fires about half the time, and I'm starting to get worried I might end up stranded somewhere." She hesitated, wondering why the sudden picture of herself and me, abandoned on the shoulder of some dark logging road intimidated her so much.

 _Like I have reason to be scared of her,_ she tried to soothe herself, _She can't be taller than 5"4, and she looks like she hardly weighs 105! I've been playing volleyball for years—I could take her… Right?_

She wasn't convincing herself.

I listened politely while she ran through the possibilities. "I had my dad check the ignition fuse and that was fine, so then he maybe thought it was the distributor cap, but that was fine, too. Then he said it might have something to do with the spark plugs, but I just replaced the battery."

 _Why?_ she wondered again as her eyes darted to my face and then away almost immediately. She didn't want to meet my eyes. _Why is she talking to me? It's freaking me out…!_

"Perhaps it's the cables?" I suggested politely. I would have liked to give her a nice wide grimace, to see her truly go pale at the thought of how scary I _could_ be. But she was trying to be civil—and I had to give her credit for that.

"Maybe," she said doubtfully, though she really had no premise to doubt me. "I'll have my dad look at it again—but I'm probably better off just taking it in to Dowling's." _Even though I won't be able to afford it—but Dad barely knows what he's doing under there, and I worry he'd wreck something before he fixed it…_

"I know a few things," I offered, "I could take a look, if you like. My brother, Royal, has taught me well. And if something stumped me, I could always give him a call and he could walk me through it. Just let me drop Archie and Beau off, and I can meet you over at your house."

Both Beau and McKayla gaped at me.

 _Okay—this has to be some sort of joke… Or a prank, or something… I don't get it…_

"Uh, thanks for the offer, Edythe," McKayla stammered once she'd recovered her composure, "But I have to get to work. Maybe some other time?"

"Certainly," I assured her, grinning more widely now.

It conveyed the passive-aggression I was going for, and McKayla's heart skipped and lurched. She fumbled her keys, and with a hasty, 'See ya' she ducked into the relative safety of her little black car.

"What was _that_?" Beau demanded as I pulled him toward the Volvo where Archie was already waiting, two cars down.

"Just being helpful," I said, sure to keep my tone innocent as he held the driver's side door open for me.

Where Beau couldn't see my face, I gave Archie a pointed look, and he immediately launched into a lengthy jabber—the likes of which had Beau struggling to get a word in edge-wise. Granted, he didn't put up much of a fight. After a minute or so, he settled into his seat and began to fiddle with the radio.

 _The Florida trip's a great idea,_ Archie thought as we headed north, _I see no problem with it. You might have to cajole Charlie a bit, but he'll agree eventually._

I hadn't _really_ decided on that course of action as of yet, but after it had been confirmed that it was a foolproof plan, I didn't see why I would need to search for another route. The only real issue would be that I would be unable to go outside in the sun, but I had come up with my excuses before, and I would come up with them now.

When I pulled up to the mouth of our driveway, Archie gathered his book bag and started to get out. As we said our goodbyes, he threw me a sharp look.

 _All you have to do is convince_ him. _He's the most stubborn part of the whole plan._ He threw a quick nod at Beau, too fast for him to intercept with his human eyes.

I nodded inconspicuously as he climbed out and shut the door behind him.

I couldn't quite shake the image Archie tossed at me before he traipsed off into the trees.

 _Victor, smashing Beau's bedroom window… Pulling him out of his bed and snapping his wrist in the process._

 _"Oops," he would say, grinning maliciously, not really very apologetic at all._

I braced myself for Beau's inquisition, formulating appropriate, calm responses in my mind. But as we headed back toward town, Beau didn't say anything—though I felt the tension grow more and more strained with each rotation of the tires.

When I snuck a quick glance at him out of the corner of my eye, I saw the mechanisms behind his eyes working, and I felt my shoulders tense. This was one thing I didn't particularly _want_ him figuring out. I was about to ask him to just leave it alone, but figured that might cause more suspicion than good, so I kept my mouth shut.

By the time I pulled the car into the driveway, I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to say _something_.

"Light homework load tonight."

I snorted silently at myself. _Nice one, Edythe._

"Uh huh."

"Do you suppose Charlie would be too objectionable if I came inside?"

"He didn't seem to mind when you picked me up for school this morning," he replied, and popped his door open.

I let him lead me inside and up the stairs, realizing I was holding my shoulders too tensely, not breathing, as we entered his bedroom. I waited for the demanding questions, but they didn't come. Instead, I was surprised when he crossed to his computer and switched it on, chucking his bag by his bed on the way.

He sat in the swivel chair as he waited for the monitor to boot, pushing his left foot against the desk to spin himself clockwise. I watched him make a couple rotations, deciding he was sufficiently distracted, and then pulled open the slim drawer of his bedside table.

Underneath a couple of loose papers, I found them collecting a fine layer of dust. I plucked the travel vouchers from their hiding place and slid them deftly into my purse. When I looked up at Beau again, he was still spinning in his desk chair, staring at the floor. The v-shaped pucker was again apparent between his eyebrows, and I knew he was thinking about this afternoon.

Before I was fully aware of what I was doing, I was in front of him, sliding myself onto his lap, and halting the spinning chair.

"You're going to make yourself dizzy," I murmured, nuzzling his ear.

When my cool skin brushed against his, his heartbeat picked up, his breath catching. In a matter of seconds, his warmth was penetrating the surface of my granite-hard skin, comforting and, at the same time, igniting a smolder just underneath the petrified flesh.

It spread quickly, possessing every inch of my body, but concentrating most in my lips and stomach. It was a tingling, aching, quivering sensation—and as much as it was physical, the reaction in my mind was even more beguiling.

The world around us seemed to disappear, and Beau became my only focus. His perfect visage, the sound of his heartbeat and breathing, the scent of his skin, his hair and his blood, the feeling of the pure heat radiating off of him.

In this moment, there was only me, only him, and the space between us—space which was suddenly unbearable. I needed him _closer_ despite the fact that I was already sitting in his lap.

I lifted my head, weaving my fingers through his hair and holding his face just inches from my own. Both of our lips were parted, and for a couple heartbeats, we passed air back and forth. As I inhaled his fragrance, the familiar burn scorched my throat—but the pain was easy enough to ignore.

"I'm already dizzy," Beau whispered, and as he spoke, I could feel the tremble of his words reverberate through the air and echo across my lips, "But it's not the chair that's doing it."

Barely cognizant of my own thoughts, I crushed my lips recklessly to his—completely and totally overcome by _him_.

I wasn't as careful as I probably should have been—it was easy to let my lips move along with his when my mind was in this half-hazy state. It was easy to pull myself tighter to his chest. When his hands clutched my waist, dragging up to seize the base of my ribcage, the ghost of a shudder ran through me—it was easy to let him do that, too.

The responses in my body and my mind told me I should stop this before it went too far, but the sensation in my head was distracting—it was akin to tinnitus without the high keening sound.

The forgiving structure of his chest through his thin t-shirt brought heady and irresponsible whims to mind—to slip my hands up under that thin layer of material, and feel the anatomy of the muscle underneath… To press my shape tighter to his shape, until there was no breathing room left between us… To allow his heat to soak into me like I was, suddenly and unexpectedly, nearly the same temperature that he was.

Beau shuddered, and I castigated myself for losing my focus, for disregarding the inevitable chill of my skin. Resigned to the fact that I would need to put some distance between us to ensure he didn't get too cold, I exhaled and began to pull away.

But Beau knew my body's cues so well. He knew I was about to end the kiss, so of course he did the only thing that seemed reasonable in his mind—he pulled himself to me tighter, his lips parting against mine, his sweet breath surrounding me, and suddenly _I_ was the dizzy one.

When his tongue, soft and warm, brushed against my bottom lip, all coherent thought failed me.

The lust was like a tidal wave, or a tsunami, coming up to drown me.

It was one thing to endure the scent of his blood, but when he allowed me taste his skin like this…

Taking advantage of my single microsecond of clarity, I unwound my arms from around his neck, and reached up to restrain his face.

Struggling to regain total composure, I ducked my head to brace it against his attractive shoulder. "Beau." I meant to sound disapproving, reprimanding, but the tenor of my voice startled me—ragged like raw silk, and shockingly unsteady.

Beau's long, slender fingers traced the vertebrae of my spine, electrocuting me with stunning, pleasurable sensation.

"I could say I'm sorry," he offered.

"So could I," I replied, lifting my head to meet his eyes, "But it wouldn't be true."

Beau blinked, and the color in his irises shifted like a tropical storm.

"Maybe I should go sit in the rocking chair."

Beau reached up to touch my bottom lip with the tip of his pointer finger. By the way his gaze lingered there, I knew he wanted me to kiss him again, but I honestly didn't think I possessed that kind of self-control.

"If you really want to…" he said grudgingly.

I couldn't help but grin at him. _Want_? Definitely not. _Need_? Probably.

It was a surprisingly difficult task to extricate myself from his embrace—though he let me go willingly enough. I was surprised to find that my body really preferred not to be separated from his.

I forced the swirl of my thoughts to slow, and focused on distracting myself.

I didn't think Beau was immune to the force of our lustful embrace, either, as I watched him shake his head a few times—as if to clear it—as he turned his attention back to the computer, which sat waiting and ready for him now.

"Please pass my well wishes on to your mother," I requested as he pulled up his email software.

"Sure," he said easily.

As he read through her letter, I watched the various expressions play across his face—the shake of his head and the adoring smirk quickly morphing into a frown of disapproval. At one point, he laughed softly to himself. At another, his expression shifted into familiar, troubled territory.

Unable to help myself, drawn by his shifting, perplexing expressions, I got up and crossed the room to stand over his shoulder. When I glimpsed Julie's name in the parting line of Renee's email, I went rigid. She was asking about her—wondering why Beau hadn't been mentioning her much lately— _she thought they'd been such good friends…_

I tried to remind myself that Beau had every right to whichever friends he chose to have, that I had no control over who he saw or not… But then quickly contradicted myself with the realization that Julie Black was a _werewolf_ —an unpredictable, temperamental _dog_ , and in this case, as Beau's girlfriend and protector, I did at least have a say over his safety.

I didn't _want_ to be controlling, but I would be if I had to be… And lately, I'd had to be. Because Beau seemed fixated on bestowing his gracious apology on the friend who had, yes, saved his life once upon a time, but who lately had been crass and cruel and cold toward him—and above all, was more of a danger to his life than any of his other friends had _ever_ been. I understood a bond had formed between the two while I'd been absent, that she had coaxed him through the terrible months of his depression, but so many friendships were temporary. Why couldn't _this_ one be?

Beau typed his response quickly, filling Renee in on the details of the last few weeks of his life. I watched him paint a happy picture for Renee, and felt tenderness rise up inside me in response.

The fact that Beau adored his mother so, that he tried so hard to fill her head with appeasements and placations touched me.

"Your mother is very lucky to have a son as thoughtful as you," I observed when he hit 'send'.

Beau jumped, not having realized I was standing behind him. Swiveling toward me in the chair, he shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"I think it is," I argued, "Most eighteen year old boys are too busy with their own lives to worry about keeping their mothers up to date. You love her."

Beau flushed a little, probably made self-conscious by my persistent doting. "Well, yeah."

I smiled softly at him. "I think it's sweet," I insisted, and then pulled the tickets out of my purse, casually fanning myself with them.

Beau's eyes widened when he saw them. He opened his mouth. "Where—"

"You miss your mother," I told him, batting my lashes demurely at him over the makeshift fan I held in front of my face, "You've been speaking about her in your sleep more frequently lately."

Beau's gaze flicked back and forth between my face and the vouchers.

"These are about to expire," I informed him, which appeared as a surprise to him, "But we still have a little time left. Your punishment has been lifted, and your weekend is wide open due to the fact that you wouldn't escort me to prom again." I grinned widely at the apprehension in his eyes.

"Florida?" his tone was skeptical.

I nodded enthusiastically.

For some reason, Beau seemed conflicted about this. "I don't know," he hedged, "It just seems a little soon… I just got back on Charlie's good side—"

"I'm sure your father won't object to you seeing your mother."

I felt bad for pushing, but this was the best chance of getting him out of town willingly. I doubted the idea of a weekend tour of Dartmouth would go over better than this.

Beau contemplated a moment. I couldn't fully comprehend his expression—as if he were torn between two sides. I knew for a fact that a good part of him missed his mother, and wanted to see her. However, he seemed to be fighting himself on it.

Finally, he shook his head. "I don't think it's a good idea."

I sighed, hating to be manipulative, but the inevitability of our weekend departure was going to happen, one way or another. "I didn't want to bring this up," I began, starting solemnly at the floor to play it up just a bit. Then I lifted my eyes back to his face, "But the circumstances in which we met last time, in Phoenix, were not my idea of preferable. I'd like to get to know your mother a little more—seeing as I'll be her daughter-in-law soon." I grinned at him.

I expected the convulsive swallow, and the glimmer of panic in his eyes. He shook his head again. "Not this weekend."

The frustration crested behind my sternum. He hadn't asked a single question about Archie's vision from this afternoon, but I was beginning to suspect he was being so stubborn about this _because_ of it.

"I think this weekend is perfect," I countered, ready to take drastic measures when the resolve hardened his jaw.

"No—another time."

With a steeling breath, I prepared myself for the avenue of tactic I never _wanted_ to use, but would resort to if it came to it. It seemed as if things had come to it… Guilt. "I just fear… That your mother doesn't like me very much. After last winter, I doubt she sees me in a very decent light, and I want to try and rectify her negative connotations of me, if at all possible. I don't want to have an antagonistic relationship with her if I can help it."

Beau appraised me, and for a moment I thought he was going to doubt my words. But his eyes softened. "Don't worry about that," he said, "Renee is way more forgiving than you think. She understands what went on between us. She doesn't see you any differently than she did before last winter. Besides—aren't you always telling me it doesn't matter what other people think?"

"Beau," I said, sighing, "Graduation is mere weeks away—"

"Like a month."

"—And we're running out of time." The realization of just how little time we had left tended to bombard me at the most inappropriate of times. Now, the seriousness of it seemed to wipe my feet out from underneath me, making it difficult to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

"We have plenty of time," he argued, but I could see the anxiety surface in his eyes.

I hated to play on that, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "Not as much as you'd think."

"Look," he huffed, rolling his eyes, "I won't be having any kind of celebration if this causes another uproar with Charlie. Let's just… Take it slow, okay? Start with a movie in Port Angeles or something…"

I could see I was getting nowhere with this, and I felt my shoulders slump in defeat. "Fine—we'll talk about it later." I was beginning to see that my only real chance of convincing him would be to first convince Charlie. Though I didn't feel right going over Beau's head like this, the matter was important enough that I would do it if I needed to.

"We'll go," he assured me, "It's just… The timing's not good, right now…"

 _No, the timing is exactly right!_

"We've still got some time before the vouchers expire, right?"

I nodded grudgingly.

"Yeah—so we'll have Archie look ahead, and see when the best time to bring it up with Charlie will be. That way, everybody's happy."

I opened my mouth, ready to pick up the argument again, but Beau interjected.

"Speak of the devil—what was it Archie saw today, at lunch? You never told me."

The sudden stress of his question—which I had known was coming, but somehow, it still took me off guard—had my muscles rigid with surprise. I could feel his eyes on my face as he asked the question, and I knew he was measuring my reaction.

I didn't _want_ to lie, I hated lying to him, but it was the only way, I could think of, that would keep him calm. This was one thing he didn't absolutely _need_ to know. I decided, to ease my guilt, that I would confess to my evasion after the matter was dealt with. He wouldn't be happy about my dishonesty, but I much preferred his displeasure, or even anger, rather than bringing him even more fear. I had put him through enough traumas to last a lifetime—and I refused to force him to endure anymore.

That made it easier to fabricate my story.

"He's been seeing Jessamine in a strange place, somewhere in the southwest, he thinks, near her former… family. But she has no conscious thoughts of returning, so he's worried about her."

"Oh." The relief in his tone solidified my confidence that prevarication had been the correct course of action. His eyes flickered to the ground, and he almost looked embarrassed.

"I didn't realize you'd been worrying," I lied again, "If I'd known it was causing you so much anxiety, I would have told you sooner. Regardless, it's most likely nothing to worry about."

He nodded, still looking distracted. The back of his neck was pink, and his fragrance was made more potent by his blushing. I went to lay my hand on the back of his neck, feeling the concentrated heat pulse against my cool palm.

He looked up at me and smiled, though it seemed a little forced. Did he not believe my lie? The indecision behind his eyes hinted at the idea, but he didn't push the topic anymore. He suggested we head downstairs to get our homework out of the way, and I followed him without argument.

We spread our things out on the kitchen table and got to work. My assignments were old news, and I worked through them quickly, without effort.

Beau labored over his calculus questions—a subject I knew he'd always had difficulty with.

When he glanced up and saw I'd finished already, he rolled his eyes and said, "Of course."

"What?" I'd inquired curiously.

He eyed my stacked books and then shook his head, turning his attention back to his book. "Nothing."

He slogged through the equations a few minutes more, his tension rising exponentially. He began to gnaw at his lip and bounce his knee, and I heard his systolic pressure rise numerous degrees.

Finally, he threw his pencil down. "I give up." He stood, and turned toward the fridge, beginning to pull out various ingredients and set them on the counter.

Automatically, I rose and went to his side. "Can I help?"

Beau appraised me, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and surprise. "Uh, sure," he said, and set me up slicing vegetables.

It was an easy enough task—though the earthy smell put me right off—and I was finished slicing the mushrooms, which smelled particularly bad, and onion before Beau had all of his materials gathered. As he worked to mix a dish of flour and seasonings together, I glanced at the revolving vessel in the microwave.

When I caught a whiff of the defrosting beef chunks, I flinched, feeling the disgust take shape in my expression.

Beau laughed at me. "If it grosses you out so much, you don't have to help."

"I don't mind," I quickly insisted, "I want to know how to cook for you. Teach me." I smiled up at him, and he gazed down at me, seeming to contemplate.

"Okay," he finally said, stepping back and gesturing for me to take his place at the counter, "Go ahead."

Trying not to let my hesitance show, I positioned myself in front of the dish, various spices lined up on the counter. I picked up the larger container, half filled with specks of black, grey and white and examined it.

"Pepper," he explained.

"I _know_ ," I told him, turning to stick my tongue out at him. "I can read the label."

Carefully, I tilted the bottle, spilling a dash of it into the mound of flour in the bowl. I glanced up at Beau questioningly, and he nodded toward the container, indicating I should pour a little more.

I tipped the bottle again, and returned my gaze to his face.

"A little more."

"Oh!" I gasped when much more pepper than I had expected spilled into the dish.

Beau laughed. "Okay—maybe not that much," he acceded, and pulled a spoon from the drawer, scooping some of the pepper out and dumping it in the sink.

"Now what?"

"Now you mix it up."

I picked up the fork next to the dish and stirred the contents together.

"Now?" I asked him as he dropped a hunk of butter into the frying pan, heating on the stove.

"Now you need to dredge the meat."

"Dredge…?"

"Yeah," he said, going to the microwave to pull the dish out. "Y'know, coat the meat in the flour mixture."

I wrinkled my nose at the hunks of bovine flesh in his hands, trying to put the two scents—the flour mixture, and the meat—together in my head. It didn't add up. The flour smelled awful—gag worthy, and the meat, hot and sweaty from the microwave was… Unpalatable.

He held out the bowl to me, cocking an eyebrow.

I took it gingerly, and set it on the counter next to the dredging mixture.

I stared down at my supplies hesitantly. "So I just…?"

He reached over my shoulder, enveloping me in his minty, woodsy scent, and plucked a cube of meat out of the glass dish. "Just toss 'er in there," he coached as he dropped the meat into the pile of flour and spices, "Cover it all up in the flour, and then chuck it in the pan."

I watched with revulsion as he dropped the dusty hunk in the sizzling butter. The smell of meat _cooking_ , I recalled, was even worse than the smell of it defrosted after it had been frozen.

"Ugh," I groaned under my breath.

Beau was waiting for me, so I got to work coating the meat in the dredge, and tossing it in the pan. As we continued with the meal preparation, my disgust only grew in proportion when he added a disgusting combination of flour and tomato paste to the pan. The sour cream, in particular, smelled horribly off-putting.

Beau, of course, thought my wrinkled nose and sounds of displeasure were hilarious, and it made the general mood in the kitchen light and carefree.

Upon his return from work, even Charlie seemed to be in high spirits. His disapproval regarding my presence was much less frequent in his thoughts.

When he invited me to join them for dinner—something he hadn't done since before I left last fall—I regretted having to decline.

"She _does_ eat, right?" Charlie said to Beau as I made my way into the living room and switched the evening news on.

"Yeah, of course—don't worry about it." Beau easily brushed Charlie's concern off as they sat down to eat.

As it turned out, the meal was good distraction, and the two ate in relative silence.

The evening report touched on the situation in Seattle, reporting that the number of casualties had risen to stunning proportions. The newscaster delivered the reports of arson, mass killings and numerous vehicular and structure fires in her well-practiced reporter voice, but as she spoke, I could see the trepidation in her eyes.

In the kitchen, Charlie and Beau were discussing their days. I sat up straighter in the chair, paying closer attention when I heard mention of the Blacks.

"… And then I was on the phone with Bonnie for awhile," Charlie was saying.

"Oh?" Beau's tone was just a little too blasé, "How's she?"

"Oh, pretty good. Her joints are acting up a little—bothering her." Tender concern was suddenly very apparent in Charlie's mind. He cared very much for his longtime childhood friend.

"That's too bad."

"Yeah. She invited us down to visit this weekend. She was thinking of having the Clearwaters and the Uleys over too. Sort of a playoff party…" I felt myself tense at the mention of this. It would make it more difficult to stop Beau from going to a gathering at the Blacks' if Charlie was in on it, as well.

But Beau only said, "Huh" in a way that didn't quite come off as disinterested. Charlie's thoughts were at once confused and suspicious, but he didn't push the matter.

A moment later, I heard Beau begin to clear the dishes, and I quickly rushed to his aid, picking up the dishtowel and going to his side as he filled the sink with hot, soapy water.

Charlie didn't see the point in getting too involved with his son's affairs, and there was another conflicting premise in his mind—a sort of relief, tinged with jealousy that I couldn't quite understand. He got up from his seat, his attentions pivoting toward the game, which had already started.

I knew this was my chance, and I braced myself. "Oh, Charlie?"

He paused and turned back toward us. "Yeah?"

I covertly ignored Beau's profile as I said, "Did Beau ever mention the airplane tickets my parents gave him on his last birthday, so that he could visit Renee?"

There was a hollow thunk as Beau's elbow banged against the edge of the counter, and his heart began to race. I was so focused on Charlie's answer—tense with anxiety, myself—that when the plate he'd been washing slipped from his hands, it clattered to the floor before I could stop it.

"Uh… No. No, he didn't," Charlie finally said, shock and suspicion at the forefront of his mind. His eyes shifted between my face and the back of Beau's neck, which was crimson with blood rush. "Why?"

"Oh—it's just, they're about to expire, and I think my parents would be disappointed if Beau didn't take advantage of the very generous gift they gave him. Not that they'd ever mention it, of course."

My parents, of course, would harbor no ill-feelings toward Beau, even if he chose to forego the use of the tickets. But knowing Beau's likelihood to put the needs and feelings of others' ahead of his own, I suspected this would only help the current situation.

I could feel Beau's eyes on my face now, piercing with their stunned intensity, but I didn't peel my gaze from Charlie's face. He was staring at his son now. His thoughts relaxed some, but there was still a tinge of expectancy in his mind, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I struggled to gain more access to his inner workings, wondering what this was about?

"I think it'd be a great idea for you to visit your mom, Beau. That'd make her real happy. Why didn't you say anything about this sooner?"

"Forgot, I guess," Beau grunted, scrubbing the sponge against the already clean plate so hard that little bits of yellow began to flake off.

Charlie frowned, his doubt ballooning. "You forgot someone gave you plane tickets?" His voice was thick with skepticism.

Beau only nodded, shooting me another bewildered, perturbed glance.

Charlie was beginning to fit the puzzle pieces together, and I gazed at him serenely as he worked out what we might be keeping from him.

"I noticed that you said _they're_ about to expire, Edythe. How many tickets did your parents give him?"

I knew this would go over well if I stayed calm, but it was quickly becoming apparent in Charlie's mind where his suspicions laid.

"Just two," I said breezily, "One for Beau… And one for me."

Beau dropped another plate, his breathing downright ragged now. I could see the tips of his ears had turned bright pink, and I could feel the heat of his embarrassment coming off his skin.

"I see," Charlie huffed, and his suddenly piercing, accusatory glare was fixed between his son's shoulder blades. My stomach twisted when I realized Charlie's suspicious thoughts had turned entirely toward his son. Blame and disapproval were suddenly very clear in his contemplations.

"Beau." He struggled to keep his voice composed. "Can I speak with you in the living room for a minute?"

A small, strangled noise escaped the back of Beau's throat, and I was immediately flooded with castigation. I had _not_ planned for things to go this way!

"Sure, Dad," he said, and turned toward me to take the dishtowel from my hands so he could dry his. He avoided my gaze as he marched out of the tiny kitchen, into the next room over.

"This is absolutely unacceptable!" Charlie shouted in a whisper, "I thought your mother and I raised you better than this—than to subject your _girlfriend_ to asking outrageous questions for you! You're not going anywhere with her; it's out of the question!"

"Dad—"

"No! Do you think I'm an _idiot_ , Beau? Do you think I don't know what you two are planning?!"

"Dad!" Beau said, louder now, his voice cracking under the strain of his mortification.

I drifted toward the archway, wringing my hands. There had to be something I could say, something I could do, to deflect the blame back on myself, where it belonged.

"You're not going," Charlie repeated, "Period."

This was exactly what Beau had been hoping to avoid, and here I had dragged him unwillingly, directly into the line of fire. The guilt was more than I could handle.

But I was surprised when Beau's voice turned hard. "Look. I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. I'm eighteen, a legal adult, and I have the right to go see Mom if I want to. Think what you want about me and Edythe, but I guarantee you, we're going to Florida to see Mom."

What was this sudden turn of events? I wondered where things had turned around.

"Do you expect me to believe that garbage?" Charlie snapped, "Shame on you for using your mother as an excuse to fly out, _alone_ , with your girlfriend… I thought you, of all people, were more responsible than this!"

"Are you serious, Dad?!" Beau spluttered, "Where do you _think_ we're going? _Vegas_? C'mon!"

Charlie, askance, wracked his brain for a response. This was not far from what he'd been expecting to unveil, and for a moment, he was speechless.

"Mom'll be there the whole time—and besides, Earnest and Carine intended the companion ticket to be used by Edythe. They're just as aware of this as you are, and _they're_ okay with it."

Charlie pursed his lips, hearing this. He hadn't expected my parents to be so well-informed.

"Seriously," Beau urged, "There's no reason to be so bent out of shape over this."

Charlie glared at his son, and I could hear that he was steadily losing ground on the argument in his thoughts. Abruptly, he resigned himself to the fact.

"Fine," he grunted, planning on emailing Renee from work the next day. "I'm putting it on you to keep things... Proper."

"Sure thing, Dad," he responded, and then walked back into the kitchen. When he saw I'd finished the dishes already, he gave me a surprised look. It quickly gave way, however, to a withering glare.

"Hey, Dad," he called over his shoulder, "I'm going out for awhile. My homework and the dishes are done. I'll be back before ten-thirty."

From the other room, Charlie grunted disapprovingly, but he knew he couldn't deny his son this right, since he'd let him off the hook already. "Where?" he replied petulantly.

"Dunno," Beau said as he made his way toward the door to grab his jacket. I followed behind with my books. "But I won't be far."

Charlie only grunted, still disconcerted, but he did his best to shift his focus to the game on the television set in front of him—instead of the images his mind insisted on conjuring of his son and his girlfriend, and where we might go to 'park the car'.

Ignoring Charlie's suspicions—as inapplicably placed as they were—I turned to Beau enthusiastically. "We're going out?" I asked as he helped slide my coat over my shoulders.

"That's right." His eyes narrowed. "You and I need to have a talk."

I tried to appear appropriately abashed as Beau stalked out the front door and across the street to my car. But I couldn't quite bring myself to feel bad for finding success in my venture. As annoyed with me as Beau might be, he would be safe this weekend—and that was what took top priority, after all.

When we were seated, Beau folded his arms across his broad chest, and glowered out the front windshield. I drank in the site of him—surliness and a pouting lip were surprisingly attractive features on the boy I adored with all of my being.

 _You are so gorgeous… And I am so in love with you…_

"So?" he finally demanded without looking at me, "Are you gonna tell me what that was all about?"

"I'm sorry," I apologized, "I know it was wrong of me to meddle, but… I know how badly you miss your mother, Beau. You've been talking about her in your sleep nearly every night."

 _"Mom, be careful."_

 _"Too high."_

 _"You forgot."_

 _"Be careful."_

 _"I'll be here."_

"Fretting would be a more appropriate word," I corrected myself.

"Really?" This seemed to take him off guard, to douse some of his anger.

I nodded. "I'm sorry he put the blame on your shoulders. I figured, if I brought the topic up, he might be more likely to accuse me."

"Obviously not," Beau griped.

I had to smother my amused grin. Did he _realize_ how adorable he looked? I didn't think so.

"Beau," I scolded, but my voice was buoyant with tender affection, "I highly doubt you were in any danger."

"That's not the—" he began to argue, but then abruptly cut himself off, sighing heavily. He lapsed into silence. "Does wanting to visit my Mom have anything at all to do with the gathering in La Push?"

"Nothing, whatsoever." I could say this honestly, because whether he was here or eight states South East, it wouldn't make a difference. He still wouldn't be attending that party.

He didn't seem convinced, still refusing to look at me.

I sighed, leaning over to console. Taking his jaw between my hands, I pivoted his head so he'd be forced to look at me. I couldn't stand his aversion any longer.

The steel resolve was still present in his eyes when he turned them on me, but when I smiled at him, they quickly softened, and he exhaled, rolling his eyes.

"Am I forgiven?" I murmured, trying not to smile.

"I guess."

This time I did grin, and I leaned in to lay a chaste kiss on his lips. "Thank you," I breathed, and I felt his jaw muscles relax under my hands. Abruptly, I twisted away to turn the key in the ignition. "So. Where would you like to go?"

He sighed again, but this time, it didn't carry the weight of his annoyance, and I knew he'd given up. "Let's go to your house," he suggested.

"My house it is," I agreed, and then chirped, "Seatbelts!"

.

"Oh man!" Eleanor crowed when we walked in the front door, "It can't be! Hard-timer, Beau Swan—out on parole? How'd you swing that?"

Beau rolled his eyes as El flashed to his side and faux-punched him on the shoulder. "Good behavior."

"Yeah right—you, well behaved?" she teased. She'd missed the boy she already considered a younger brother.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm bad to the bone."

Eleanor cackled. "Kid, you are downright hysterical!"

"Beau, my man!" Archie appeared at the top of the stairs, and in less than half a second, he was standing in front of us. He pulled Beau into a one-armed bro hug, clapping him gently on the back.

My parents were waiting for us in the sitting room, and when we walked in, Earnest stood to clap Beau on the shoulder.

"Beau, good to see you again," he enthused, "It's been such a long time."

Beau shrugged, his skin steadily changing color in response to all the attention he was getting. "Guess I served my time."

We sat on the love seat together, hands interlocked, while Beau caught my parents up on what he'd been doing these last few weeks. My parents listened with rapt attention; always unerringly grateful for the valiant risk Beau had taken, running off to Italy to save my life.

When I brought up the subject that we'd be visiting Florida this weekend, they showed just enough approval and interest as was warranted.

 _If you catch the flight out of Sea-Tac at 3:10 on Friday, you'll arrive just before 1am_ , Archie provided helpfully. _It'll be raining around mid-morning in Jacksonville on Sunday, so your best bet for a return flight would be the 10:45. That'll get you home just before dinnertime. We'll definitely have things taken care of before then._

I nodded at him in thanks. Beau, who was updating my parents on Renee, didn't notice our little exchange.

A few minutes later, Archie stood. "Okay, okay, that's enough parental manipulation," he said to Earnest and Carine, "Beau will have plenty of time to talk with you another time." He turned to Beau and lifted his eyebrows, grinning enthusiastically. "You up for a little game?"

Immediately, Beau was suspicious, tensing beside me and tightening his hold on my hand. "What kind of game?" he inquired warily.

I squeezed his fingers reassuringly. "He just wants to play chess," I informed him, "Are you up for it?"

Beau looked suddenly hesitant. "Uh, sure—but is there really much point in me playing against any of you?"

"You might stand a chance against Edythe," Jessamine teased as she carried the family's antique, hand-carved chess board over and set it on the coffee table, "Since she can't read your mind." She arched a perfect brow at me, _C'mon—turn it off just for a few minutes and play fair._

"I'll play you," Archie challenged me now.

I grinned angelically at him and slid off the loveseat to sit on the floor. "Prepare to be beat."

"In your dreams."

"Sorry—I don't dream," I retorted cheekily, "I just scheme."

Archie snorted as he arranged his pieces. "Scheme is _right_."

When we were ready, Archie made the leading move. Then, for a total of three minutes, we barely moved. We sat on opposite sides of the table, both of our eyes fixed on the board, but our mental presences somewhere else entirely. Archie easily read my predicted moves as I decided them, and I picked Archie's thoughts out of his mind as he considered each of his.

Within a matter of minutes, the game was over, the majority of it played out in our heads. When Archie realized I would pull a fast one near the end and trick him, he sighed in surrender, and tipped his King over.

"Checkmate." I grinned at him.

"Oh, you're so funny," he told me sarcastically as he pushed the board toward Jess and Beau. "You two play. At least you won't be able to hear each other's plans as you make them."

Jessamine smiled and lifted her gaze to Beau's. "Beau?"

"Sure," he shrugged, and took my place on the floor.

Jessamine was, arguably, the best chess player in the house—all supernatural extra abilities aside. She was best at strategy games, which made her reigning champion of _Risk_ and _Catan_. However, she preferred games with an aspect of chance—possibly because that made it harder for Archie to see what was coming—like many poker games.

Regardless, chess was one of her favorites, though she hardly played it with anyone other than Carine. They were the most compatible in skill, which offered just the right amount of challenge for Jessamine. Of course, she'd never won against Archie or myself, but she claimed we took constant victory due to our 'unfair advantages'.

"It's not unfair if it's entirely unintentional," Archie would retort.

Jessamine was not known for going halfway on _anything_ , and she beat Beau in six moves flat.

Beau shrugged his shoulders, exhaling good-naturedly. "Nothing I didn't already expect," he said.

Jessamine giggled. "Sorry about that, Beau," she apologized good-naturedly. "Again?"

"Uh…" He hesitated, "I think I've been effectively humiliated enough for one night."

We all laughed at that.

"You have the potential to be a great chess player," Jessamine complimented him. "I'd be happy to help you harness your talent."

Beau smiled at her. "Cool—that'd be sweet. Thanks."

Admittedly, it still made me nervous to have them in such close proximity to each other. But the strength of Jessamine's resolve was eons stronger now than it had been last fall, and I knew her guilt and shame over the event had changed her permanently.

She took extra precautions now—even more than she'd been taking in September—and her control hadn't wavered for a millisecond in the time Beau had been here.

It was easier for her, now, to think of him as family, and not a victim. An unbelievable change had taken place in my sister, and I couldn't have been more proud.

When the game was put away, Beau and I went up to my room for a while to listen to music. We lounged on the couch together, tangled in a casual embrace. Beau ran his fingers through my hair, braiding it through with his warmth and delicious fragrance.

I let my eyelids flutter shut, almost losing myself in the steady, rhythmic pumping of his heart.

"I've missed this," I murmured softly, "I've missed _you_."

"We see each other every day." Beau was confused, "You lay in my arms all night long."

I opened my eyes and gazed up into his tranquil face. He didn't understand. "No." I leaned up to kiss him softly, causing his heart to hiccup. "Not like this. Not here, where I'm free to be myself. I don't have to hide here. I love that I don't have to hide from you—not ever again. You don't know how you've liberated me, Beau—how you've given me the liberation to truly be myself."

Color rose into his face in response to my declaration, and his eyes turned liquid and deep—deeper than sleep. I couldn't resist leaning up to kiss him again, locking my hands behind his neck.

When our breathing grew ragged, and Beau's heart reached galloping-horse proportions, I pulled away.

He glanced toward the clock on my wall.

"Time to go?" It was still early, by my standards.

"I just don't want to give him anymore reason to be upset with me. Going home a little early is the least I could do."

"Of course," I agreed with him, "Let's go say goodbye."

.

It was quiet on Beau's street when I pulled up in front of his house a few minutes later. The clock on the dash read 10:18.

Inside the house, Charlie's thoughts were crashing chaotically between embarrassment, resolve and the duty of a responsible parental figure. When I realized what he was amping himself up for, I had to smother a giggle.

Beau didn't notice my sudden humor.

"I think I'll just see you upstairs in a bit," he said, glumly, and I realized that he thought the lights still on in the living room meant Charlie was waiting to give him another piece of his mind. "I don't want to push things any farther than we already have, tonight."

"Don't worry," I soothed him, struggling to suppress my grin when I heard the different opening sentences of the speech Charlie had been preparing. "His thoughts are relatively calm. I'll be up in a little while," I promised.

I watched Beau cross the street and disappear through the front door. My momentary amusement distracted me from our painful separation—even if it was only for a little while.

Desperately, I wanted to stay and eavesdrop on the Sexual Education lesson Charlie was about to bestow on his son, but I thought it would be better to give Beau his privacy. He would already be embarrassed enough without having me listening in.

I considered returning home for the hour it would take Beau to be ready for bed, but in his absence, the anxiety was steadily growing, and I soon found my thoughts locked on a certain pair of ruby-red eyes.

Archie had assured me he would be here no sooner than Saturday, and though I trusted my brother's vision, I was not willing to take any chances. I abandoned my car just outside of town, and made a cursory—but thorough—loop around Forks' limits. I was almost back to the Volvo when my cell phone began to buzz in my jacket pocket.

"Hey," I said to Archie as I continued on the path.

"I know you're out on security detail n' all," he said, "But I just thought you should know that Beau's future abruptly vanished just thirty seconds ago."

Completely contradictory to what my instincts _should_ have been, my feet stopped moving underneath me, and my knees locked. "What?"

"I don't know," Archie said, "But I think it must have something to do with the dogs." His tone sounded almost as disapproving as my thoughts.

Unconsciously, I'd begun to run again, leaving my car behind as I sprinted back toward Beau's house. "Filthy _mutts_ ," I growled as the wind streaked my hair out behind me. "Did he leave yet?"

"Probably not," he replied, his tone sullen and belligerent—he hated being blind. "But I can't say for sure."

"I'm almost there," I assured him as I launched myself into the air, foregoing the sidewalks in exchange for rooftops in order to shorten my travel time. A few seconds later, as I reached their street and caught site of Beau's truck still in the driveway, relief relaxed my muscles. "He hasn't left yet," I told Archie, my tone airy with satisfaction. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"No biggie," he assured me, "But do me a favor and conk him over the head for me. Tell him he's an idiot, while you're at it. He scared me half to death."

Knowing Beau was safe inside his house—I could hear his heartbeat—I was able to find humor in Archie's sentence. "Har har."

"You know what I mean."

"I'll tell him—just maybe not in those exact words."

Without thinking, I dashed to his truck, lifted the hood soundlessly, and reached in to rotate the distributor cap an eighth of a turn clockwise. This would effectively disable the truck from starting. By altering the timing, the rotor wouldn't make full contact with each spark plug, and thus, the connection to the ignition would be incomplete.

I shut the hood silently, and then crawled into the cab to wait.

Sure enough, just minutes later, Beau opened the front door, jacket on, keys in his hand. His heart was pounding something furious, the strength of the epinephrine in his system sweetening his scent. Every once in awhile, as he hurried toward his truck, he glanced guiltily over his shoulder.

When he reached the truck, he climbed in without seeing me, inserted his key into the ignition, and twisted.

 _Click._

His brow furrowed as he tried again.

 _Click, click._

I shifted just marginally where I sat curled into the corner of the bench seat.

Beau jerked like he'd been electrocuted, and wrenched his face to stare at me. His heart, which had already been pounding, increased in rate even more.

I appraised him with a serious expression. "Archie called."

It hurt to see him so blatantly going against my warnings. Not only was it offensive, but it terrified me. I had not imposed the restrictions for _my_ sake. It was for his safety, and to see him so deliberately disregard that was alarming.

Beau only stared at me, his eyes wide, and his heart still hammering. I waited for the fury to surface in his eyes as I went on.

"He got anxious when your future rather abruptly disappeared five minutes ago." Still nothing, and the longer his silence continued, the uneasier I became. "Because he can't see the wolves, you know—they obscure his vision entirely. Or had you forgotten? When you decide to mingle your fate with theirs, you disappear, too. You couldn't know that part, of course. I realize that. But can you understand why that might make me a little anxious? Archie saw you disappear, and he couldn't even tell if you'd come home or not. Your future just vanished into thin air. Lost."

I understood that this may confuse him, and I wished I could explain it to him—but my family was just as puzzled over the mystery.

"We're not completely sure why this is. Some natural defense mechanism they're born with? That doesn't seem entirely likely, since I haven't had any trouble reading their thoughts. The Blacks', at least. Carine theorizes that it's because their lives are so completely ruled by their transformations. It's more an involuntary reaction than a decision. Utterly unpredictable, and it changes everything about them. In that instant when they shift from one form to the other, they don't really even exist. The future can't hold them…"

I hadn't realized how lost in my own thoughts I'd become, and I trailed off.

I realized he would probably be furious with me—with good reason. I could only understand why he would be angry, but this circumstance was unlike any other. I wasn't simply stopping him from seeing a friend because I didn't _like_ her. It went much, much deeper than that. Of course, Beau didn't see the mutts as a threat; he'd made that clear, time and time again.

With the only one with sound mind in this truck, I figured it appropriate that I make the decisions corresponding to the safest plan of action for him. And right now, it was safest for him to stay here, in his house, where he was protected. His rage was unimportant in comparison to his wellbeing.

"I'll put your truck back in running order in time for school tomorrow morning, if you'd like to drive yourself." I forced myself to acknowledge he may remain angry with me for some time.

I didn't look up when he yanked his keys from the ignition and threw his door open.

"Shut your window if you want me to stay away tonight," I said when his feet touched the pavement, "I'll understand."

The sound of the slamming truck door shook the frame of the truck, and me along with it. I felt my eyes squeeze shut in response. My heart sank in response to his stony silence, though I'd expected nothing less.

Sighing, I hopped out and turned the distributor cap back to its correct positioning, and then I crossed the lawn and rounded the side of his house, staring up at the dark, west-facing window.

Ten seconds later, the light flicked on inside, illuminating the square-shaped beacon to my haven, and Beau appeared in its frame. His face was hard, intensely serious, and as I watched, he reached up with both hands, slamming the window shut so hard that the glass pane shuddered.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, staring just half a moment longer before turning my back and starting toward the cover of the trees.

When I was halfway across the yard, I heard the telltale slide of the window re-opening, and I glanced back over my shoulder.

Joy flooded through me when I saw he'd again slid aside the glass pane.

I almost made it to the count of three before my feet touched his bedroom floor.

.

 **A/N:** What a long chapter—phew! And, I'm sure you'll all like to know that the next one will be, too! I fully intend on divulging the weekend Beau and Edythe spend with Renee. Those details were almost entirely missing from the original, and I think it would be lovely to know what went on between those three.

Anyway—I will see you all soon. As always, I would love to know your thoughts on this chapter! :)

Also, I may not get another chapter posted until next week, as I'm going on a retreat this weekend, and will likely not have internet. But chances are, I'll get a bunch of pre-writing done—so that's a plus!


	4. Confrontations

**A/N:** I'm back! I hope you all had a wonderful weekend. I had a great, refreshing retreat where I was able to pray and be still and rest, and it was just the best. It was something I've been needing for quite some time. So now I'm back at it—refreshed and renewed! Unfortunately I didn't get as much pre-writing done as I'd hoped. There was just too much beauty in the mountains and opportunity to nap ;)

I won't hold that over myself, and I hope you guys don't either!

Here's the next chapter for ya!

P.S. I struggled a bit over whether Renee would give the guest room to Edythe or Beau, and then decided she would think her son tough and gentlemanly enough to endure a weekend on the pull-out in the den ;)

.

As Archie had promised, our departure from SeaTac went flawlessly, and soon we were coasting thirty thousand feet in the air, settled snugly into our first-class seats.

As soon as the aircraft's wheels lifted from the tarmac, so did every anxiety from my shoulders. Victor would be no match for my family—it was a certainty. Archie and Jessamine alone probably could have taken him out—combining his foresight with her Southern army training—but it was good to know the rest of my family would be there to back them up.

Beau's expression was unreadable as we floated through the sky, across the country, but I hoped he saw this weekend as an opportunity to forget about the problems at home as much as was possible. It would be beneficial for him to spend some time in the sun, to converse with his mother and step-father.

I had continued to assure him, time and time again, that there was no rush—that this was _eternity_ we were speaking of. But he always seemed so immediately sure about his decision to join my family by way of venom.

Renee waited for us at the airport, and as soon as she saw her son through the crowds, her mind burst into a cacophonic display of what I could only equate to a firework show. I was reminded, again, that her mind was so unique to anything I'd ever experienced. Whimsical and dreamy, simplistic in her thinking, but also _so_ insightful. The moment she saw us, a deeper intuition inside her psyche was triggered.

I was enthralled as she examined the changes she noticed in her son as we strode toward her—the length of his hair, the way his torso had filled out some, but most noticeable to her was the new strength and light in his eyes. She had never seen him more sure of himself as we made our way through the terminal toward her.

Renee's thoughts were mostly conveyed by way of still-frames and images—another internal mechanism I wasn't used to. So many people thought in words, in phrases. But Renee's consciousness was almost entirely based on sensation, intuition and pictures. It was fascinating.

"Beau!" she squealed, running the last few steps toward her son and yanking him into her tight embrace. I surrendered him to her immediately. "Oh, look at you!" She gripped his hands and held his arms out. "You look good, honey!" A very brief flash of the Beau she'd seen last fall, when Charlie had called and requested she come, because he didn't know what else to do with his catatonic son, flitted through her mind. He'd been gaunt and pale, then. I flinched, as if the image of this world-weary, heartbroken boy could physically harm me.

At any rate, her mother's heart was entirely unburdened at the sight of him now—well, healthy, glowing even.

There were tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes as she greeted her son, and then her thoughts shifted, reorienting themselves like the ocean's tide—in that strange, give and take way I'd noticed in Phoenix—and she turned toward me.

"Hello, sweetheart," she said, and I detected no bitterness, or even a hint of disapproval, as she leaned in to draw me to her.

"Hello, Renee," I said to her, a little thrown by her graciousness. Why was she so understanding? How was it possible she did not see me in any sort of ill-light? "It's lovely to see you again."

"Oh, you as well, Edythe," she said, "I'm so glad you two came to see me!" She seemed to compose herself, blinking back the remainder of her tears as she planted her hands on her denim-clad hips and gave her son a condescending glare.

In that instant, I saw so much of Beau in his mother it was staggering.

"You haven't visited nearly enough," she accused.

"Sorry, Mom," Beau mumbled, truly looking abashed. As his mother turned away to read the carousel boards, a flash of sadness flickered across his face, and I reached out to hold his hand.

Before I could interlock my fingers with his, however, Renee reached for her son's hand and hauled him off.

"Looks like your luggage is coming in on carousel eight," she reported. Her interception had not been intentional, and I giggled to myself as I trailed behind them. Beau threw me an apologetic glance over his shoulder, but I only smiled, shaking my head at him. His mother's doting affections didn't bother me one bit.

Our luggage was a few of the first off the airplane, and we took them out to Renee's new 4-Runner. The house wasn't far from the airport, but Renee somehow managed to encapsulate a surprising amount of dialogue into the brief trip home.

She barely stopped to take a breath between her monologing, glancing over at Beau, who sat in the passenger seat, every few moments to ensure he was still listening. And he was. His attention never wavered from his mother's face for a moment.

And the expression on his face… I had never seen anything like it. So affectionate, so patient, so filled with loving awe… It made a place deep inside my heart ache—wishing for some elusive _thing_ I had no earthly clue of.

As Renee showed us into the house, she apologized for Phil's absence, explaining he had to be up early in the morning for a baseball tournament his high school team was to be a part of over the weekend.

"Don't worry about it, Mom," Beau assured her, "We'll find some time to catch up, I'm sure."

Renee smiled at him softly. "Yes, I'm sure," she agreed. "For now, let's just focus on getting you two home and to bed." She patted her son on the knee. "I'm sure you're both just zonked."

The house was familiar in a dreamlike way—I'd seen it before, but only dimly through Renee's thoughts. It was a little yellow structure, quaint with daisies in the boxes under the windows, and just a few minutes' walk from the beach.

Renee showed me first to the guestroom upstairs—furnished in demure blues and creams—and then pointed out the bathroom to both of us.

"Towels are on the counter."

Then she took us downstairs and showed Beau to the pull-out bed in the den, which Renee had made up ahead of time.

"It's more comfortable than it looks," she assured her son, suddenly anxious.

Beau lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, eliciting a series of hair-raising screeches. "It's perfect, Mom."

Renee dithered in the kitchen with a cup of tea she had no intentions of drinking, while Beau and I said goodnight. She tried not to eavesdrop as we lingered in the entryway, but she couldn't help but notice the almost gravitational pull that connected Beau and myself. She noticed the way I watched him, with searing intensity, and the way our movements seemed to echo the other's.

She planned to discuss that with her son in the morning, but wanted to let him have a good night's sleep, first.

Beau encircled me in his arms and pulled me to his chest. "I guess I'll see you in the morning."

I grinned into his shirt, glad he sounded as enthusiastic as I felt about being separated for the remainder of the night.

"Goodnight," I whispered and leaned up to capture his eyes with mine, "Sweet dreams, Beau." I intentionally allowed my breath to fan across his face, knowing the effect it would have on him. I was not disappointed by the stunned, adorably disoriented expression that came over his face.

Knowing his mother was sneaking peeks, I settled for a quick kiss on his cheek before I turned and headed toward the second level.

Not quite as subtle as she thought she was, Renee wished her son a good sleep mere seconds later, and headed up the stairs behind me.

In the bathroom, I flushed the toilet and ran the water—keeping up appearances for Renee, and then dressed in the sleeping clothes I'd brought in the bedroom.

The airy, light material of the lace trimmed lilac camisole and matching pants was surprisingly comfortable, and I wondered why I hadn't purchased sleeping clothes for myself at an earlier date.

Sitting in the center of the bed, I braided my hair and listened to the sounds of running water in the guest bathroom as Beau got himself ready for sleep. A few moments later, he descended the stairs again, and through the floor, I heard the pullout bed's springs creak gratingly once more.

The house fell into familiar silence. In the master bedroom across the hall, Phil woke briefly when Renee crawled in next to him—but it was only a matter of minutes before they were both deeply asleep.

Downstairs, Beau rolled over in the bed, and then was still again. I could hear the rhythm of both his breathing and heart through the floorboards, and I knew that he wasn't asleep. Every so often, his heart rate would pick up, and then slow.

I waited, hoping with all that I had that he would come to me. It was an unfamiliar, giddy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wondered if this was how school girls felt, waiting for her parents to fall asleep so she could sneak out of the house with the neighborhood 'bad boy'.

When ten more minutes passed and Beau still did not come to me, I pulled out the book I'd brought along, preparing to settle in for the long night ahead.

It was just after 1:30 when I heard Beau get out of bed and creep across the front hall, to the stairs. I was grinning before his foot mounted the first step, and by the time he knocked once, and eased my door open infinitesimally, I was sure my dimples were on full display.

"I was beginning to think you'd never come," I whispered as he slipped the door shut quietly behind him and tip-toed across the floor toward me. I laid the book aside and curled willingly into his arms.

"I wanted to be sure they were asleep," Beau breathed. His breath burst, warm and minty, across my face. He'd brushed his teeth.

"I feel bad," I admitted, "Here I am, with this cozy little room—and you're stuck on the pullout bed downstairs."

Beau laughed softly and kissed my pouting bottom lip. "I'm not stuck there now, am I?"

"No," I murmured, "You're not."

He pressed his lips to mine again, their warmth searing me through without hesitation. For a few, slow minutes, I allowed myself to swim in the weightless, tranquil waters of his osculates, running my fingers through the lush strands of his hair, so as to stir up his fragrance in the air around us.

When Beau began to gasp for breath, I pulled my lips from his and lay my ear against his heart, listening to it bang around behind his ribcage.

In the next few moments, I began to croon his lullaby, and he fell into slumber on the pillow beside me.

I listened to the patterns of Phil and Renee's breathing throughout the night dutifully, and when Phil's seemed to shift toward waking, I shook Beau gently.

I hated to send him away, but I doubted he would agree to changing beds, even if I didn't require a soft place to lay my head.

I sent him back to bed, half afraid he would stumble, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, down the stairs. Only when he flopped heavily into the pullout bed did I begin to breathe again.

In the master suite, Phil started the shower, and I laid back on the pillow Beau had just vacated, inhaling the notes of his perfume he'd left behind.

Outside, the sky was still dark. Within half an hour, Phil had departed for his early morning workout before practice at seven, and the house fell silent again.

The foundation seemed to inhale and expire in exact time with Beau and his mother.

I forced myself to wait for day's first light before I allowed myself to get up and dress for the day. It felt strange to pull on shorts and a tank top when I knew I wouldn't be stepping foot in the sun. It was more skin than I was used to showing, by any rate, and I threw a slouchy cardigan on over the top, second guessing myself.

I went down the stairs and sat in the swinging bench on the back porch, indulging myself by watching the sun rise. I had nearly forgotten how heartbreakingly stunning daybreak could be. I'd long ago become accustomed to the cloudy, diluted sunrises from the North. But the South… The South was something different altogether.

When the sun garnered enough strength to hint at the illumination of my skin, I headed inside. Coffee was brewing on the counter next to the refrigerator—exuding a nasty, bitter smell into the air. I was just heading up the stairs to gather my books—a prop—when Renee began to descend.

"Oh," she gasped, a little startled by my soundless footfalls, "Good morning, Edythe. You're up early."

I smiled genially at her. "I guess I'm not used to the sun rising so early. It's so bright."

Renee laughed, looking cozy and relaxed in her bathrobe, her hair pulled away from her face with a large clip. "Yes, I suppose it would be quite a change from Washington."

"I was just going to grab my books, and then I'll join you downstairs. I was going to do a bit of studying—"

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion, and she wondered why on earth I would want to spend my weekend holiday doing schoolwork. "There's plenty of time for homework later," she chided, "Leave the books and let me fix you a cup of coffee."

Her hospitality was so welcoming, so unexpected, that I could not bring myself to reject her offer. So I followed her down to the kitchen and let her fix me a cup of coffee. We sat side by side at the kitchen island, while Renee sipped the revolting sludge inside her sunny yellow mug, and I intermittently dumped mine, little by little, into the nearby potted plant, in spurts too quick for Renee's human eyes to notice. I hoped I wouldn't unintentionally kill it.

"It's good to see you two lovebirds back together," Renee said after a long stretch of contemplative silence, "It wasn't good for him to be apart from you." Her brow knit, bringing, once more, to recall, the image of her sullen and despondent son.

I flinched, my shoulders hunching beneath the agony the picture elicited, but Renee was staring into her coffee cup and didn't see my reaction.

"I wondered if I was simply imagining things, when Beau was in the hospital last Spring. But seeing you together last night only confirmed my suspicions." She turned toward me. "Just how long have you known that you're in love with my son?"

Surprised by her audacity, but seeing no reason to evade her questions, I confessed, "Even longer than he's loved me."

Renee lapsed into quiet solitude, the still-frames skimming through her mind at such a rate, I found it a task to keep up—even for a supernatural. She lingered the most over her memories of Beau as a gangly, big-blue-eyed little boy. Then her thoughts seemed to race ahead of her, imagining her son older, in the world on his own, successful and with children. All the while, she was sure she'd see me beside him.

"He seems very faithful to you," she said quietly, almost as if she were speaking only to herself, "But you two are so young." A jolt of unease went through her, remembering her own whirlwind love story with Charlie, remembering how badly that had ended. "I just can't help thinking you two need more time before you make these big decisions together."

Beau's mother appraised me with wide, cerulean eyes, and I couldn't have agreed with her more.

I smiled softly, deftly maneuvering our conversation into easier territory, as I heard the beginnings of Beau's stirrings in the den. By the time he came out to greet us, rooster tail and all, we were playing cards.

I was surprised by the immediate bond I felt with Beau's mother. For all her temporary, non-habitual ways, I was pleased to find we had much in common. We shared the same taste in music, both lovers of Classical and Instrumental music. Though Renee was a huge fan of modern romance novels, she also enjoyed the Classics, which was another touching stone of camaraderie for us. We discussed Bronte's works at length, both agreeing that her literature had shaped vital parts of our personalities.

I was able to avoid raising too much suspicion due to my fabricated term-paper excuse, while Renee took her son out antique shopping, and then on a beach excursion. As much as I wished it were possible for me to join him, to see the way he would bask in the sun, this was also an important time for him to get some alone time with his mother. After all, it may be the last time he would ever see her, and I wanted him to be able to say everything that needed to be said, to do everything that needed to be done. I didn't want him to have any regrets when the time came to say goodbye.

Phil finished with his practice early enough to take us out to dinner. I managed to get through the meal without taking a single bite of the salad I'd chosen from the menu. I felt despicable for wasting the entirety of a meal Mr. Dwyer was treating me to, so I'd purposefully chosen the least-expensive item on the menu, which happened to be the house salad.

When Beau whispered in my ear that it was unusual to just order salad, I ordered a side of baked chicken and garlic bread as well.

I managed to hide an appropriate amount of the meal in my napkin.

On our way out to the car, Renee enclosed her concerns for me in Beau's ear.

"She's awfully slim, Beau," she worried in a low whisper, "Are you sure she eats enough?" She was silently listing the symptoms of an eating disorder in her mind, unable to quite feel confident in her assumption, but unable to come to any other conclusion.

"She's perfectly fine, Mom," Beau insisted, patting Renee's hand, which was looped through his arm. "She's… Really _careful_ about her diet, is all." Then he glanced over his shoulder at me and winked.

Beau got up early the next morning to make his mother breakfast as thanks for having us. I watched, fascinated, as he whipped together a viscous-looking batter that turned my stomach.

"What do you call that, again?" I inquired as he plucked a ladle out of the cracked blue pitcher by the stove.

"What, this?" he asked, pointing at the mixing bowl.

I shook my head and jerked my chin toward the circular looking contraption that was plugged into the wall.

"Oh, that—that's a waffle iron."

"It looks… Dangerous," I observed as I watched him scoop up a ladle-full of the nasty looking batter and pour it into the strangely-textured pan.

Beau laughed as he closed the lid and flipped the entire thing over. "Not in the least."

Nevertheless, I continued to watch warily, half afraid he might burn himself.

Beau busied himself by whipping cream and sugar into stiff peaks, and then slicing up a basket of swollen, putrid-smelling strawberries.

When Renee and Phil came downstairs soon after, Beau got a half-hearted scolding from his mother.

"You're the guest—I'm supposed to do the cooking," she chided as she stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.

"I don't mind," he replied, grinning, as he passed her a plate. He'd piled everything together in a way that looked artistically messy. "Consider it my thank-you gift."

Renee and Phil ate at the breakfast bar. When she urged me to help myself to a plate, I made a joke about having wolfed down three of the—awful, reeking—golden squares while Beau had still been cooking.

It was nice to chat with Phil a bit—it was clear he and Renee were very much in love, and that she was very happy. I remembered when I had assumed there had been some sort of ill-ease between Beau and his step-father, encouraging his move to Forks. But I couldn't have been more wrong. The two chatted easily, jokingly—Phil pushed Beau to reconsider his college options, that Florida State was a perfect place to consider.

Beau quickly deflected the prodding with a comment about the humidity. Even from inside the house, I, too, felt as if I were inhaling vapors most of the time.

When breakfast was finished, Phil headed out the door to prepare for the big game this afternoon. When Beau started toward the sink, I jumped up.

"I'll get those. You two get out of here."

Beau paused in the middle of the kitchen, and I hip-checked him toward the door.

"Edythe, no—leave the dishes. You're a guest here," Renee said.

"Oh, I don't mind," I assured her, grinning. "It's the least I can do for being so rude, eating without you."

Renee appraised me sweetly. "You eat whatever and whenever you like," she encouraged me. Her thoughts shifted, picturing the strip by the beach, wanting some time alone with Beau before we had to leave for the airport in just over an hour.

"Thank you, Renee." Then I turned to Beau. "Beau, you should take your mother for a stroll by the beach before we have to leave. Soak up the last of the sun." I gave him a pointed look.

Renee immediately brightened. "That would be wonderful—you should join us, of course, Edythe," she offered politely.

"I appreciate the offer, but I have a ton of packing left to do. Plus, I'd really like to try and finish up my term paper. I'm almost finished with it."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely. Go on ahead."

They left together through the back door. Quickly, I took care of the dishes, drying and putting them away. Of course, my packing was finished. Everything was ready to go, and I found myself sitting in the shade-darkened sitting room with nothing to do.

My mind drifted toward the welfare of my family. If everything had gone according to plan, Victor would have entered Forks last night, and they would have intercepted him. I tried to soothe myself, knowing Archie would have called if anything had gone wrong; but still, I couldn't help to worry.

If any one of them had been harmed, it would be entirely my fault. This was _my_ responsibility, and as much as I knew I was in the right place, here with Beau, I felt like I was somehow shirking my duties.

The longer Beau and his mother were gone, the more I began to panic. It was completely irrational thought that tormented my mind; I was aware of this, but I could not stop the thoughts.

 _Somehow, Victor found a way to walk conspicuously in the sun._

 _He's found him._

 _He realized where we were and he's come here._

The relentless qualms tortured me, and finally I could stand them no more. I dashed up to my room to pull my cell phone out of my purse, powered it on, and called Archie.

"Okay—for one, give it a rest," he said by way of an answer, "Beau and Renee are perfectly safe. They'll be back in precisely seven minutes and twelve seconds."

A great weight was lifted from my chest, and I felt as though I could breathe again. In the immediate postlude to the relief, however, I realized that there was an underlying tension in my brother's voice. There was something he wasn't telling me.

"What happened?" I demanded of him.

Archie sighed heavily on the other line. "He got away, Edythe."

I went firm with tension, my muscles locking.

"He came in on the river, as we expected—I suspect he was trying to disguise his scent. We were waiting for him, but just as we were about to ambush him, he took off. We gave chase, but it was like he was reading the boundary lines from a map, Edythe. He ran exactly parallel down the line. The wolves were following him, too, so of course I was blind… Jess and El almost had him—but then the grey one flipped; she was sure El was over the line, and she got distracted, lunging at her. Of course, that set Royal off and he stepped in to defend Eleanor. It would have been a nasty fight if Jessamine and Carine hadn't nullified things. Jess was able to send a wave of lethargy over the crowd to take the fight out of them, and then Carine used her voice of reason. But by the time everybody got their heads screwed back on right, Victor was long gone… I'm sorry, Edy—really, I am."

"No," I said, and my voice sounded hollow as I processed the story. I would have a better idea of what had happened once I arrived home and was able to see the recall clearly in my family's minds. "No, Archie—don't feel bad. I think Victor must have a talent for evasion. It makes me feel just a little better, having not been able to track him properly. Maybe I'm not as bad at it all as I thought I was."

Archie gave a hard, single note of laughter. "He'll be back." Now, his tone was ruthless, bloodthirsty. "And we'll get that bastard next time."

"You're sure he's not lingering near town?" I felt suddenly wary. There was no way I would bring Beau home if there was a chance Victor was hanging around, waiting for us to return. But I didn't see how I could coax him to extend our trip without raising suspicion—he was too perceptive for that.

"Positive," Archie assured me now, "Once I was clear of the nasty dogs, Seattle was pretty apparent in his future. Haven't seen anything else since then. I guess I'll see you tonight, then."

"Yes," I confirmed, "See you."

A couple minutes later, Beau and Renee hurried in, shaking off the rain and cursing those tropical storms.

"I just need to go upstairs and change," Renee said, heading for the second level, "And then we can head out for the airport."

Beau noticed my anxiety and came to me, the rain accentuating his scent. Even after an hour apart, the burn in my throat was more noticeable. I let him take me in his arms and rested my cheek against his chest, taking the opportunity to rearrange my features.

"Everything good?" he wondered.

"Of course," I said brightly, tipping my head back to grin at him. "How was your walk?" I stretched up on my tiptoes to catch the drop of rain clinging to the tip of his nose with my lips.

"It was good." But suddenly, he seemed a little uncomfortable.

I felt my brow crinkle in concern. "Beau? What is it?"

Now, it was his turn to put on a mask. I noticed this immediately, but when he assured me it was nothing, I didn't push him. It didn't feel right, urging him to be vulnerable with me when I was keeping my own secrets from him—no matter how little he needed to know of them.

He excused himself to duck into the den to change his shirt. I stayed where I was, contemplating what processes might be going through his mind. My gaze shifted, falling entirely accidentally on the mirror in the hallway. Beau was standing in the den, his naked back to me, fishing a clean t-shirt out of his suitcase. He didn't realize the door stood slightly ajar, that I could see the entire expanse of the smooth skin of his shoulders.

It was entirely discourteous of me, but I found I couldn't tear my eyes away. In an almost indulgent way, I found myself tracing the geography of flesh and bone. I'd never seen so much of him before, and the unfamiliar enthrallment took me off guard. He was… Beautiful. It was the only word I could think of to explain the bare stretch of bone and cartilage, knit together with sinewy muscle and smooth, porcelain skin.

As I watched, Beau lifted his arms to pull the clean t-shirt over his head, accentuating certain curves of his back, the skin folding together in the most fascinating way, between his shoulder blades.

Renee's voice startled me from my fascination, and I jerked myself away from my gaping.

"Alrighty, lovebirds!" Renee trilled, bounding down the stairs in a pair of denim capris and a frilly top, "Ready to go?" Her affect was bright and carefree, but in her mind, she was sad to see her son go. He'd grown up so much in the past couple of years—time only seeming to accelerate even more while he'd been in Forks—and she wasn't sure when she would have the chance to see him again.

As if I were suddenly as much an Empath as Jessamine, I felt a lump rise into my throat in response to her tender, maternal emotions.

I didn't think Beau was immune to the gravity of our farewells, either, as he held his mother close for an extra couple of seconds. His heart lurched a little unevenly when he pulled back to gaze into her face, and I heard him swallow heavily.

"I love you, Mom," he told her, his tone thick with emotion, "I'll… I'll see you."

Renee clung to her son a moment longer, the tears coursing, unrestrained, down her cheeks. "Oh, it was so good to see you two," she sniffled, "Come back to see me again soon."

Beau, unable to quite formulate a coherent answer, stammered a bit over his words. But she wasn't really listening as she turned to hug me, gripping me with surprising strength.

"Promise me you'll make him happy," she whispered fiercely in my ear, "That you'll support him and stand by his side, no matter what."

"I will—for as long as he wants me," I guaranteed her.

She hugged her son once more, and then we headed off to catch our flight. The image of our turned backs, fingers interlocked between us, seemed to superimpose an image into Renee's mind—an image I doubted would fade even a little, anytime soon.

Beau was very quiet on the flight home. He stared out the window for most of the venture, his eyes following the line of the horizon as we soared west, toward the setting sun. He remained as such all through the afternoon, as we caught our connecting flight in Atlanta, and then as we landed in Seattle.

I was beginning to worry that something worrisome had come up in his conversation with Renee on the beach—after all, he hadn't been willing to tell me very much about it. Or maybe he was just sad, believing this may very well be the last time he saw his mother.

Either way, I could stand the silence no more. We'd been in the Volvo for nearly twenty minutes, and he still hadn't spoken a word.

I reached over to lay my hand over his. "You've been very quiet," I observed, "Did the plane make you sick?"

Beau turned his face toward me sharply, as if he'd forgotten where he was. "No—I'm good," he said, "Just… Thinking."

I nodded in understanding. "I thought it went very well… But it must be sad for you, to leave."

Beau surprised me when he shrugged. "Yeah," he admitted, "But I'm kinda glad we were only there for two days. She was… Making me nervous."

Anxiety was definitely not an emotion I had been expecting, and I felt my lips turn down in confusion. "Nervous?"

"Yeah—I think she notices things a lot more than Charlie does."

I nodded, thoughtful. I was suddenly much more interested in the conversation the two had shared this morning. Something must have come up. I wasn't entirely confident, but from the images in her mind, it was clear she saw us together in the future, and I wondered if she'd spoken to Beau about this. "She has a very fascinating mind, your mother. Childlike and whimsical in some ways, but also very insightful. She… Sees things differently than other people."

Beau nodded, considering this, and turned his gaze once again to the window. Soon after, his eyes fell shut and his breathing slowed. He slept for the rest of our journey, and when I pulled up in front of the Swan residence, I reached over to touch his cheek.

The sensation of my cool fingers on his skin brought him round, and he blinked a few times, seeming disoriented.

"Good morning," I teased, "We're home."

As we got out of the car, we both noticed the curtain part subtly in the front window. I was a little taken aback by Charlie's enthusiasm about having his son home. I could understand now that he'd be anxious Beau would find Florida more to his liking.

There was another timber of expectancy in his mind, and as I focused, I realized what it was. Charlie's memories were always clearer than his current thoughts, and apparently, the recurring recall of Julie Black's phone calls were at the forefront of his mind.

He was expecting the phone to ring any moment now as he glanced at the clock, and realized another five minutes had passed.

I felt the instinctual locking of my muscles, and Beau seemed to notice my stiffness when he reached out to take my hand as we headed up the walk.

"How bad?" Beau inquired, misreading my expression.

"Charlie's not going to be difficult," I assured him, and wished I could say the same for Julie Black, but I simply didn't know. "He missed you." I took a discreet breath, hoping to urge my body back into relaxation, but I couldn't quite achieve it.

Why _now_? Why, after all this time of avoiding and dodging, was she so intent on talking to him now? Was this going to be her usual way of things—to waltz back into the picture after we were finally settling into some reprieve of normalcy amongst all the chaos…?

Charlie was waiting for us at the door, swinging it wide, an animated grin on his face with which to greet his son.

"Welcome home, kid! How was Jacksonville?"

"Can't say I was a fan of the humidity. And I wish I'd brought bug spray." He wrinkled his nose slightly.

Charlie's anxious thoughts began to ease. "So they didn't convince you to move down there next year for school?"

Beau shook his head, like he wasn't really sure. "Don't think so."

Remembering his manners, if only a tad reluctantly, Charlie turned toward me. "And what about you? Did you have a nice time?"

"Yes. Renee was a lovely host, and I'm very glad I got to know her a little better," I said, smiling serenely and amicably—which never failed to confuse his emotions. He was constantly fighting the battle between what he knew about Dr. Cullen's well-mannered children, and the girl who'd broken his son's heart the year previous.

"That's… um, good. Glad you guys had a good time."

He turned back to Beau, his joy welling up again. "It's real good to have you back, kid," he said, and then, taking Beau by surprise, gripped him in a sudden hug, thumping his back twice, hard. "For one, the food sucks when you're gone."

Beau laughed. "Guess that's my cue." He started to head for the kitchen.

It wasn't until that moment that I realized Beau was happy to be home, too. He seemed more relaxed than he'd been all weekend, and suddenly, some of my residing tension made sense. Part of me had been unable to let go of the thought that he might just change his mind about Florida. Of course, it would rearrange things substantially, but if Beau would still have me, I wouldn't allow it to sway me from staying by his side.

Regardless, I was happy to know daytime outings wouldn't be out of the question for me anytime soon.

"Would you give Julie a call back before you get started?" Charlie called after his son, interrupting my moment of happiness. I automatically felt myself tense again. "She's been calling every five minutes since six o' clock this morning. I told her I'd have you call her before you even unpacked."

"She wants to talk to _me_?"

"Pretty bad, I'd say. She wouldn't tell me what it was about—just said it was important." The words were barely out of his mouth when the phone rang. His annoyance rose a little. _At least give me a few minutes alone with my kid…_

I recognized Julie's persistence wasn't the only presence he wasn't entirely thrilled about, and I would leave, but I found myself too caught up in what Julie Black might possibly want with Beau. I couldn't risk having her tell him about what had happened this weekend. There was no benefit in him worrying about something there was no need for. Of course, it would be Julie Black to bring him avoidable strife…

Beau turned and headed for the kitchen. I followed him quietly, anxious.

When he yanked the phone off the cradle and abruptly turned his back on me, a part of me went cold.

"You're back," the voice on the other line said, flat and emotionless.

I tensed, but I saw the visible relaxation of the muscles in Beau's shoulders. He hesitated a moment, and when he answered her, his voice was low, heavy with some sort of emotion I couldn't comprehend. "Yeah."

"Why didn't you call me?" she demanded, and I felt my brow crease with perturbed frustration. How dare she expect Beau call her right when he got in—especially when _she_ had been the one avoiding him for weeks?

Surprising me, as always, Beau chuckled softly. "Maybe because I've been home for all of five seconds?"

"Oh." Julie sounded surprised and, appropriately, abashed. "Sorry."

"No problem." I was appalled at Beau's tendency to brush things off—even when there was perfectly assumable reason to hold a grudge against the person in question. This person, especially, deserved some sort of trial. "Did you need something?"

On the other line, I heard Julie take a breath, and then release it—as if she'd been about to say something, but then had quickly changed her mind. I realized my hand was halfway raised toward the phone, ready to snatch it from Beau if she started to say anything about Victor's 'visit'. I didn't think Julie Black would be so foolish, but still…

"Are you going to school tomorrow?"

This question surprised me. It hadn't been what I'd been expecting to hear in the least, and I wondered about this, speculating whatever convoluted assumptions could be running through her head. Did she think I'd stolen him away?

"Um… Yeah?" Beau said now, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. Just curious." It was clear she was trying to sound just a bit too casual. In the background, I heard the distinct howl of a wolf. "I gotta go."

Beau seemed surprised by her abrupt cessation of the conversation. "Wait—" he blurted, "I…"

"What?" she said, impatient now, and her clipped tone raised my hackles.

"I just… Thanks for calling."

"Yeah, I guess I just needed to hear your voice," she said, suddenly hesitant and shy. Another faint howl sounded, more insistent now. "I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Okay, but—" The line went dead.

Beau pulled the receiver away from his ear, appraising it with a bemused expression on his face.

"That was short," he muttered, his brow furrowed in dejection.

"Is everything all right?" Of equal strength, relief and fury coursed through me. I was thankful that she hadn't said anything totally out of line to him, but I was also irate that she'd so clearly upset him.

The color in his eyes shifted as he contemplated for a moment. He didn't turn toward me, but instead stared across the kitchen, out the rain-streaked window. "Dunno," he mumbled, "Guess so. It was just… Weird." He shook his head, still deep in thought as he crossed to the refrigerator and began to pull out ingredients for dinner.

I kept my eyes on his face as he laid the ingredients on the counter, pulling pots and pans and wooden spoons from cupboards and drawers. His brow remained wrinkled, his eyes pensive, throughout this whole process.

I was afraid to say something, to interrupt his intense concentration.

Was it really just confusion over what his friend had wanted, or was he missing her again—thinking up ways to evade me and find himself in La Push again? Was it really just their comradeship he yearned for, or were there deeper, unresolved emotions he was still working through?

I watched him worriedly as he continued his ministrations, and I noticed the moment that he tensed in the middle of the kitchen floor, the half-thawed package of hamburger slipping from his suddenly slack fingers.

I was there to catch it before it hit the floor, setting it on the nearby counter before laying a steadying hand on his back.

"Beau, what is it?" I murmured anxiously. His face was totally blank, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head slowly, but didn't say anything for several minutes. The age old, tormenting curiosity took hold, and finally, I took his arm, shaking him gently. "Beau," I hissed.

"I think…" he finally said, his voice flat and affectionless, "I think maybe she was checking…"

"For what?" I demanded, my own whispering voice tight and too high-pitched with tension.

"To see if I was still human."

I stiffened, and an involuntary hiss slid through my locked teeth.

The nerve of that woman child! The audacity she had…!

"We'll have to leave," Beau continued quietly, "I mean, before you change me. So that it doesn't break the treaty. We won't ever be able to come back, right?" He turned his stunning, beseeching gaze on my face, and there was such heartbreak in his eyes, I felt the fissure snake through the center of my own chest in response.

"Yes," I whispered, hating to assent to this. It would be painful for him—excruciatingly so—to have to leave his friends and family behind, knowing he would never again see them. Would this realization stir hesitation in him? Would it give him more time?

I didn't know—but I hoped.

.

 _She'd better show up soon. I don't want to hang around here longer than I have to. Stupid bloodsuckers... Paula had_ every damn right _to take out that tall chick. She was on_ our _land, and they knew it, too… Next time, it's fair game…_

I felt my hands tighten reflexively around the steering wheel, and my body went rigid. We were a few blocks away from school the next morning when I heard Julie Black's sullen, furious thoughts up ahead. She was waiting for us in front of the school, entirely intent on 'warning' me about 'trespassing on their land'. She had no plans to edit or splice her speech—despite the fact we would have an entire student body of witnesses hearing our exchange.

What a _child_! What an immature, heedless _child_!

"If I asked you to do something for me, would you?" I struggled to keep my voice even, not wanting to alert Beau to any sort of tension.

But I was afraid any impression of tranquility was vanquished when he glanced at me sideways and took in my expression, which I was apparently not hiding well enough.

In response, his heartbeat thrummed faster. "Do what?"

We were pulling into the parking lot now, the girl's thoughts gaining volume and emotion. If it had not been made clear to me the evening previous by way of my family's memories, Julie Black's thoughts made it very clear now that the scuffle on Saturday evening had been worse than Archie had alluded to on the phone.

Things had come much closer to getting out of hand than he'd let on, and the wolf-girl was making it very clear in her thoughts, now, that she would have let them, too, if she'd been calling the shots.

"Stay in the car for me?" I requested of Beau as I pulled into my usual spot, already knowing the dim likelihood of him agreeing with me. "Just for a few minutes. I'll come back for you—I promise."

Beau's warm hand clamped around my forearm.

I braved a glance at his face—which was bemused and, I was surprised to find, a little panicked. "Why?" he asked cautiously, and I sighed as he automatically began scanning the school property for whatever threat I must have inadvertently alerted him to. "Jules?" he breathed when his eyes fell on the girl, waiting on the sidewalk between the parking lot and the school, her deathtrap of a motorcycle parked illegally behind her.

I knew in that instant that the battle was lost—the only thing I could hope to be successful in, now, was keeping her from saying the words out loud.

 _Jeez, everybody's staring,_ she thought now, almost self-consciously. But she was also aware of the appreciative male eyes, taking in her toned arms—which were bare, exposed by the tight black tank top she wore. Her jeans were dirty, but fit well. _Well, at least all the eyes on us here will keep Black Widow from trying anything stupid…_ Julie knew her sisters were nearby, waiting in the shadows of the forest if some kind of violent confrontation were to arise—as if I possessed as little discipline as the _dog_.

I scoffed quietly at her thoughts. Beau didn't seem to hear me. He was still staring at the spot where she waited, arms folded in front of her, her expression far more composed than her insolent thoughts.

"Apparently, you came to the incorrect conclusion last night," I explained quietly, "The reason she wanted to know if you'd be in class today was because she knew where you were, I would be, too. She was looking for neutral ground to speak with me—where we would have witnesses."

"Huh," Beau said, his eyes still fixed on the wolf girl, and then he unclipped his seat belt. "I guess we should go talk to her, then."

I groaned as he gripped his bag and climbed out of the car, but quickly gathered my own things and rounded the hood of the Volvo till I was at his side. We headed toward Julie Black together, and I was pleased when he reached down to twine his fingers with mine.

The pleasure intensified when Julie's thoughts raged at the sight of us holding hands.

Around us, the students' thoughts were a typical mass of apprehension, perplexity, and the occasional thrill of exhilaration. All in all, a typical response to what some assumed would be a typical schoolyard fight. They had no way of knowing just how graphic things would become if a fight _were_ to break out. What kind of carnage would ensue…

I would do everything I could to avoid it happening, but I held no confidence in Julie Black's self-control, and I wondered why on Earth her Alpha would allow her to confront one of their enemies in this way…

 _Look at them, all lovey-dovey, holding hands… Ugh. Like holding hands with an_ ice cube _. How can he stand it?_ She fought back her first shuddering tremor at the sight of me, and straightened from where she'd been attempting a casual lean on her glossy black bike.

Immediately antagonistic, though I gave her no inclination that I was going to be, she folded her arms across her chest.

I kept my expression as cool and as expressionless as I could manage, but my instincts, too, were rising inside me, difficult to quell. The reflexes were all the more difficult to deflect when the _only thing_ that mattered to me strode toward the threat with absolutely no hesitation.

I had to resist the urge to step in front of him when we reached a reasonable proximity, knowing the action would raise further suspicion in the crowds around us.

"A simple telephone call would have sufficed," I said, unable to come off quite as blasé as I'd been hoping for.

Julie's mouth twisted. "Hm—too bad I don't have any leeches in my speed dial. I know!" she said, as if a wonderful idea had just occurred to her. Her thoughts, however, were sardonic. "Let's, like, totally exchange numbers, and then I can, like, text you next time I, like, need something!" Her plastered on grin looked more like grimace than smile. Her mockingly upbeat tone had hit a nerve, and my next words came out harder.

"I'm sure even you could have realized you would be able to reach me at Beau's house."

"Look— _bloodsucker_ ," she snapped, "If I was looking for advice on how to run my life, which I'm _not_ , or how to rip someone's jugular out—"

"This is hardly the place for that discussion, Julie," I cut her off.

 _Imbecile!_ Did she not _realize_ how many people were listening to our conversation? Did she have any idea, at all, what it meant to be discreet? To keep the supernatural details of our life conspicuous?

Apparently not, as she'd hardly made an effort with Beau.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for the inconvenience," she cooed again in her falsely cheerful tone, "When would be a better time for _you_? Maybe I could come by your place after school, and we could, like, paint our nails and have a little chat then?"

I squashed the unimpressed snarl rising in my chest, reminding myself that it was my duty to stay calm. If I stayed calm, then hopefully _she_ would, and we could avoid traumatizing the students of Forks High together.

I exhaled, forcing composure. "That will hardly be necessary," I assured her, though I knew she hadn't been serious.

 _The hell?! Is she joking?_

"Anyway, I'm already aware of what you came here to say. You can consider us warned."

Before anything else could be said, I tugged on Beau's hand, moving to skirt around the girl—sure to give her a wide berth—but Beau resisted my pull, hesitating.

"Warned?" he repeated, and I risked a glance up into his face as his eyes flickered between the two of us, puzzled. "Warn them about what?"

"Nothing," I insisted, anxious to have him out of here before the girl could say anymore.

 _Unbelievable!_ she thought, irate, _Like a mother hen—trying to protect him from everything. She may as well bubble-wrap him. I can't believe she would try and hide this from him!_

"You didn't tell him?" she asked incredulously, "He doesn't _know_?" _He has a_ right _...! This involves him! He has a right to know!_

Why did she insist on subjecting him to such pain? Did she derive some sort of pleasure from seeing him scared, lonely, and miserable? "Please—just let it go, Julie."

"How come?" she snapped, jutting her chin. _Scared he'll take our side? That he'll see it was your little_ coven _that overstepped their bounds—and if it hadn't been for your brawny sister, the fire-haired bloodsucker would be a pile of smoking, purple ash by now? Is that why?_

I ground my teeth together, swallowing back another growl.

"What's going on?" Beau demanded, "What aren't you telling me, Edythe?"

I didn't answer him, too enraged to speak. I knew my face was fixed in a mask of inhuman rage as I glared at the wolf girl, but I couldn't bring myself to reign it in.

 _You don't tell him, I will… You know what they say: all's fair in love and war…_

"Jules?" Beau turned his searching, demanding gaze on the object of my disdain.

With fire in her eyes, Julie smirked at me. _We both know he would have rather heard it from you… But, of course, I'm happy to fill in the places you're not able to…_

She turned to him. "She didn't tell you that one of _them_ crossed the line on Saturday night? Paula was a bit affronted—rightfully so, if you ask me. Her actions were completely justified—"

"It was no-man's land!" I hissed, "Eleanor _didn't_ cross the line!" How could she possibly not _see_ that it had been _her_ side at fault? That the grey wolf—who was always quicker to react, and of higher emotional degree than any of the others—had overreacted?!

"Says _you_!" Julie retorted childishly. Her fists, clenched at her sides, were beginning to tremble, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

 _Get ahold of yourself, girl,_ she said to herself, _Don't cause a scene._

 _Too late for that,_ I mused.

She took two deep breaths, and stilled the trembling. The urge to phase quickly died out when Beau spoke again, reminding her that she'd be putting him in danger if she gave over to the urge to shift.

"Wait—are you saying… That Eleanor and Paula got in a fight? _Why_? What happened? Is Paula okay?" Beau's voice broke, straining tighter with the intensity of his distress, and I glared accusingly at Julie before turning to stroke Beau's arm.

"Nothing happened," I assured him, soothingly, "No one got hurt. Please don't worry."

 _You have_ got _to be kidding me!_ Julie's incredulous thoughts broke through my concentration. _He doesn't know the half of what went down? Seriously?!_

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?" she said out loud. "Was that the reason for your little _weekend retreat_?" She said the words in a scathingly, sickly sweet voice, thick with mockery. "So that he wouldn't find out about—"

"I think you should leave," I spat, unable to keep the mask fixed in place any longer. I had never wished with more passion that we could have been alone in this instant, so that I could put her in her place _properly_ , and without any sort of restraint. " _Now_."

Julie Black was not so thick to remain blind to the pure loathing that exuded from my expression. A mental shiver, something like an intuitive nudge, went down her spine, and she suppressed another tremor. Ignoring this, she continued to test me, to challenge me.

 _I guess_ I _get to be the one to tell him._

"Why didn't you tell him?" she persisted, knowing she was being cruel and unrelenting—she ought to have known this would hurt Beau, but all she could think about was spiting _me_!

I stared at her, aflame with rage, unable to speak for fear my anger be released in an unfurling series of snarls and hisses. I saw, in the deeper recesses of her mind now, as I focused, that she had no remorse for the pain and terror she would put Beau through. Her only stance was that she assumed he would be angry with me for hiding this from him, and that he'd turn back to her—the one who never hid anything from him, no matter how much it hurt him. But, hey, it was worth it—because she was being honest.

In the midst of my wrath, two things suddenly became very apparent to me: Beau's heartbeat, and his breathing. Both of which were quickly winding into high gear. He stumbled back a step, gasping for breath, and when I looked up into his face, his eyes were wide with dread, sweat beading on his forehead. His face had lost several shades of color, and a lash of cold fear went through me.

Quickly, I reached for him, fearing he might crumble to the rain-slicked pavement beneath our feet.

"He…" Beau gasped, eyes fixed and unmoving, "He came back…"

"See what you've done," I snapped at Julie under my breath as Beau struggled to see reason. I lifted a hand, stroking his neck soothingly, wishing there was something I could say to ebb his fear.

Though guilt was becoming apparent in her thoughts, Julie remained indignant. "He has a right to know."

"There was never any threat," I spat at her, careful to keep the volume of my voice low as the students inched closer, "He was never in any sort of danger. There was no _point_."

Julie shrugged. "Better freaked than lied to." _You'll see—he'll agree with me, too. Just you wait. Wish I could be there to see it…_

"So you think honesty is more important than security?" I demanded scathingly, "You don't care how much pain or trauma you put him through, as long as he knows the _truth_ about what's going on miles away from where he's safe and happy with his mother, where he would never have been affected in the slightest?"

In a category of my mind that was always precedent, but wasn't always in the forefront of my thoughts, I recognized Beau's heart and breathing rates beginning to return to normal ranges. However, the panic did not fade from his eyes, and I cursed the immature woman child standing in front of us for instilling that unrelenting fear in him.

I felt Beau shiver, and I whispered quiet reassurances to him. No matter how cliché or dated they were, every word I said stood true. It _would_ be okay. I _wouldn't_ let anything happen to him.

"Beau doesn't need you sugarcoating anything for him," Julie said, "He's stronger than you think he is—and he's been through worse."

Abruptly, Julie Black's bitter and narcissistic thoughts were absent, in lieu of a few choice memories. She compared the bright, animalistic panic she witnessed in his eyes now, to an image indistinct and partially rendered—as if the memory was someone else's.

No matter, the shocking blow of it was no less concussive. The agony tore through me at the sight of a shapeless form, curled on the dirty forest floor. Beau had been soaked to the bone by the rain on that black, moonless night. His face was completely void of color—but more than that, entirely void of expression. He stared unseeingly, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, as the rain pelted him like needles.

Another image—this one was clearer, obviously firsthand—of vacant expression after vacant expression, on the face of a too-thin boy. The bones of his cheeks strained harshly against his pallid expression, his clothes hanging limp from his shoulders. No hint of a smile anywhere, no notes of laughter or joy—only unceasing, unerring despondency…

The images shifted again, seen through eyes too far up off the ground. I immediately recognized the perfect circular shape of the meadow Beau and I shared together. But it had died in the winter, gone brown and lifeless. On its edge, Beau stood. There was some strength back in him, but his expression still haunted me, still ripped me through with the agonizing truth: _I_ had done that to him… And then, in the middle of the meadow, the small, dark-haired vampire called Lauren, who had fled to Alaska when our confrontation with Joss had begun last Spring, appeared.

She had returned, and now there was vengeful thirst in her crimson eyes. She slouched into a hunter's crouch, ready to take Beau's life from him in barely an instant…

Julie Black showed me more images—one a profile shot as they sat together in his truck. Beau appeared lost in thought, and though the aura of the memory held laughter and a state of ease, it had abruptly shifted to concern when she recognized the familiar expression on his face—the blank stare, the listless affect in his eyes as he found himself lost in grief, in mourning.

The graphic images inflicted on me the purest of tortures, the cruelest of agonies, because I knew that _I_ was the cause of every instant of this pain Beau had suffered through. I was the reason behind every moment of it; I had been the one to bring the despondency, the despair, the misery and the agony upon him.

"What's wrong?" Julie taunted softly, letting the memories—and the agony conjugated with them—slowly fade. "Didn't like that so much? Maybe it'll teach you to quit rooting around in peoples' heads."

She threw me another one, the thought I now knew must have been a memory: Beau and Julie in his tiny kitchen, a breath away from sharing a kiss.

This made me flinch once more, experiencing an entirely different form of agony.

"Edythe?" Beau murmured, low in my ear, and I felt his arms encircle me, "Edythe, what's wrong?"

With some effort, I managed to clear my expression and lift my head.

He spun on Julie, who was feeling very full of herself. He took a half step away from me, toward her, one arm still wrapped around my waist, the other raised, fist clenched. "Whatever you doing, quit it," he snapped at her, real anger glinting in his eyes.

"It's nothing, Beau," I assured him, my voice still whisper soft as I gripped his balled fingers and smoothed them out again, pulling him back again. "Julie only possesses surprisingly notable recall."

Just as I was regaining the last of my composure, Julie seemed to notice and brought me to my metaphorical knees with another gut-wrenching image: Beau's pale, marble colored face. Sand in his hair. Cyanotic lips. Drenched and unresponsive.

Unable to stop my response, I flinched again.

"I said— _cut it out_ , Jules," Beau repeated, his voice as hard as steel, "Right now."

Julie grinned and shrugged, as if the entire ordeal had been completely nonchalant to her. "Whatever you say."

 _What's all this excitement about? A crowd in the parking lot? I heard some kids mentioning an unfamiliar girl with a motorcycle… I hope it's not a fight…_

Principal Green was making her way across campus, having been informed about the gathering in the parking lot.

Beau was still glaring at Julie, so I squeezed his hand to ensure I had his attention, fully recovered from the onslaught of Julie's memories now. "The principal is on her way to discourage loitering on public property. We should get to class."

I began to turn away, and thankfully, Beau began to follow this time, but then Julie snorted a laugh.

"What a goody-little-two-shoes you have on your hands there, Beau. Bet you two don't get up to much." Her voice rose. "Listen! If you ever feel like having a little fun again, I've still got your bike in the garage!"

Beau's hand stiffened in mine, and he stopped walking. He turned halfway, glaring at her, surprised, over his shoulder. "You're not supposed to have that. You told my dad you would sell it."

Julie shrugged. "S'not mine to sell… Anyway—if you ever want to take a little ride again—" Just a glimpse of the remembered exploit coursed through her mind. How Beau's hands had felt as she'd coached him, how he'd looked so happy and strong and carefree as his shoulders hunched over the handlebars, flying down the dirt road… The way he'd sailed through the air— "Y'know," she continued, "In case you ever get bored of your little model student there." She jerked her chin at me, her eyes still on Beau's face.

Beau sighed in exasperation, and then, all at once, the fight seemed to go out of him. Julie Black was almost smiling, a playful glint in her eye, and something palpable passed between them.

"Jules…" Beau said softly, and there was something there in his voice, unmistakable emotion that I'd never witnessed in him before. It struck me with physical force, and I suddenly felt like I did not _belong_ in this exchange they were having.

And truly, as if I were all but gone, the girl leaned forward, her eyes softening and all her defenses evaporating. "I've had a lot of time to think lately," she started, apologetic. She hated things had turned out this way, hated what it had done to their relationship. "About, y'know, being friends? And… Maybe I was wrong before. Maybe we can try again. On my side of the line. So… Come by sometime, whenever you're free."

This seemed to take Beau by surprise—which made both of us. I, for one, was appalled at the girl's audacity. At her shameless manipulation of Beau's first show of some kind of tender emotion. How dare she _use_ him like this!

Now, he glanced down at me, seeming to measure my reaction.

I would not come in the way of their bond, but the physical danger of the werewolves was just as present as it had always been. And especially after what had happened on Saturday, I still didn't feel safe enough to allow Beau anywhere near their proximity.

But I kept my expression neutral, not wanting to say any of this now. It would be enough of a fight later.

"I don't know, Jules," he said hesitantly, his eyes back on her face.

"I miss you, Beau. So much. It sucks without you there, and the girls keep telling me it's gonna get easier, that it's better this way, but I just…" She trailed off, emotion catching in her throat, and real, actual tears glistening in her eyes.

I was astounded. There was not one iota of maleficence in her thoughts; there was only heartbreak, grief and the longing to be with him again. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought this a spectacular show. But it was no show for Julie. She was completely sincere.

"I know, Jules," Beau said, sighing, "I know, but…"

Julie's gaze shunted to the ground, and she kicked a stray pebble off the sidewalk. "I know. Doesn't change anything?" She laughed a little, sadly. Then she seemed to shut her mind off from the vulnerable emotions, gathering the grief and heartbreak into a little box in her mind, and shutting it away, behind lock and key. She allowed the anger and pride come to the forefront now. "Whatever. I'll survive. Who needs friends, anyway?"

One of Beau's arms began to lift, as if to reach out for her. Halfway extended, he clenched his hand into a fist, but I couldn't bring myself to release him. The protective instinct inside was too strong to uncurl my fingers from his other hand.

At that moment, Principal Greene approached, effectively putting our conversation to its end.

"Alright, everyone—time to get to class. Let's go… Everyone, and I mean everyone. That means you, too, Miss. Crowley."

Beau didn't take his gaze, concerned and almost tender, off of Julie's face as the principal pushed her way through the crowd and found us at the center of attention.

"I can guarantee detention for anyone who's still standing here by the time I turn around," she called out loudly, and then turned her suspicious, bespectacled glare on us. "Miss. Cullen," she said, the shock apparent in her tone. _Edythe Cullen? But she's never been one to cause trouble before…_ "Is there a problem here?" She glanced between myself and Julie Black and her illegally parked motorcycle.

"No. No problem, Mrs. Greene," I assured her politely, "We were just on our way to class."

"Excellent," she approved, and scrutinized Julie Black closer. _Hm, I don't recognize her. Not a new student, surely… She looks like she could be in university… Maybe a friend of one of the Cullen siblings'?_ "I don't recognize you," she said out loud, "Are you new to Forks?"

"No," she replied brightly, a cocky smirk plastered across her lips. She was obviously enjoying this a little _too_ much.

Mrs. Greene did not take nicely to either insolence nor sass, and Julie's cavalier response irked her. "Then you'd best remove yourself from school property before I am forced to call the authorities."

Julie smirked, picturing Charlie showing up in his police cruiser, and the—in her eyes—hilariousness that would ensue. She didn't think Charlie would be able to bring himself to arrest the daughter of his long-time friend, but I certainly knew better. Chief Swan took his job seriously, and he would do what it took to keep his town safe, and in tip-top order.

She debated staying, but thought better of herself.

She lifted her hands in mock surrender to our principal. "Yes, Ma'am," she said with mock earnestness, and then spun to mount her bike, kick-starting it right there on the sidewalk. In a moment, she was gone.

 _Such disrespect!_ Mrs. Greene raged, _I should_ not _have to put up with this in_ my _school!_

She turned her frustration on me, now. "Miss. Cullen, I'm going to ask that you please ask your friend not to trespass on school property again."

"Oh—she's certainly no friend of mine," I assured Mrs. Greene, "But I'll be sure to relay the message." I smiled genially at her.

Mrs. Greene was immediately regretful of her former attitude toward me.

 _I should have known this wasn't her fault. Edythe's received nothing less than straight A's in all her semesters here; I've never known her to cause a stitch of trouble before. I shouldn't have been so rude…_

"If you're worried about any trouble, Edythe, I'd be happy to—" She'd been about to say 'involve the police', but I decided to interject.

"Please, Mrs. Greene. Don't worry yourself over nothing. It won't be happening again."

"I should hope not. Now, off to class you two."

She ushered us away, hesitating a moment more before making her way back toward her office.

Once we were around the corner of the cafeteria building, I pulled Beau to a stop and took his precious face between my hands.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said immediately, but there was a strange light in his eyes, a glint of serious resolve, and I knew I would have to answer the long list of questions he undoubtedly had.

When we reached the English building, Mrs. Berty barely looked up from the Frost poem he was reciting.

"…from what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire. But if I had to perish twice…" she droned on, monotonous and bored.

We took our seats, and Beau yanked his notebook out of his pack, wasting no time as he ripped out a leaf of paper and began to scribble furiously.

I was surprised, when only seconds later, he slid the paper across the table to me. Resigned, I took it and appraised what he'd written. I almost laughed at the brevity of his demands, but I supposed they were encompassing enough.

 _What happened?_

This didn't seem the most ideal way of going about things, but if Beau insisted it be this way, I wasn't going to argue.

I detailed the occurrences of what had happened Saturday, that Archie had, indeed, seen the image of Victor's approach on Tuesday, but that our weekend in Florida had been more of a precaution than any sort of protective measure.

I passed the note back to Beau, and appraised his expression as he read through my confessions, his brow furrowed. I saw the emotions pass through his eyes, one after the other: anxiety, wariness, concern, satisfaction.

His eyes ceased to scroll across the page, but he continued to stare down at the paper, frowning, and I discerned he was still deep in thought. Finally, he erased the paragraph, appearing incensed.

 _What about Charlie?_ he began to scrawl. I was already shaking my head before he'd finished the question—this had never been about Charlie—but he ignored me, insisting on seeing the sentence through, and then shoving the note back toward me.

 _He was never in any danger,_ I wrote, _If he'd been after Charlie, Archie would have seen it. He's been keeping careful tabs on Victor's decisions—he won't get past us again, I guarantee it._

Beau read this, and then sat shaking his head, clear unease on his face. I was about to reach out to squeeze his hand in a comforting gesture, but then he turned his piercing eyes on me, accusatory and greatly contemplative.

Finally, he turned his eyes back on the page under his hand and began to write again, this time slowly and deliberately. I watched him scrawl each letter several times over, until each word was clearly emboldened.

When he was finished, he struck a vicious line underneath the entire thing, and passed it back to me—though it was entirely unnecessary. I'd read the entire thing as he'd written it.

 _ **You will tell me next time.**_

When I lifted my eyes back to his face, he was staring at me again. I examined his fair complexion, the strained set of his jaw, and the electricity in his eyes. I'd always known Beau to be unerringly courageous, even selfless to a fault. In a way, I understood his desire to know what was coming, so that he'd be able to steel himself. But I struggled to understand what benefit would come to him, by worrying about things he really didn't need to worry over.

At any rate, I _did_ know one truth: Beau deserved better than being lied to.

I sighed, and reluctantly nodded, making my promise. As I did so, he released the breath he'd been holding, his shoulders relaxing.

 _Really? First they walk in late… And now they're passing notes back and forth? Do they think they can just completely ignore me? I think it's time to intervene…_

Mrs. Berty's thoughts preceded her progression down the aisle toward us as Beau was scribbling _Thanks_ on the page. Moving quickly, I snatched the page out from under his still-moving hand, tucked it beneath my book, and quickly scrawled notes for everything she'd covered in class so far.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Miss. Cullen?" Mrs. Berty demanded, her hand already extended for the notes she'd seen us scribbling back and forth. She was feeling very high and mighty, having caught one of the Cullen kids red-handed.

What she didn't know, however, was that my supernatural speed and ability to recall things with picture perfect clarity enabled me to have the upper hand.

"My notes?" I infused the appropriate tenor of confusion in my voice as I passed them over.

She read them thoroughly, her cheeks going pink when she realized that, somehow, she'd been wrong.

 _I could have sworn I saw them passing that paper back and forth… Lori, old girl, you're really getting along in age, imagining things…_

She walked away, still baffled, and Beau rolled his eyes at me.

.

 **A/N:** I tried multiple different avenues of conversation at the Cullen house that could have taken place between Beau and Edythe's return to Forks and the following morning, but nothing was coming out right. Everything was either ending up wayyy too serious, or completely shallow and trivial. So I just decided to leave it out entirely. The chapter was long enough without it, anyway.

Let me know what you thought of this one, my lovely readers, and I'll see you next time :)


	5. Risk

**A/N:** Hi, there. Here's the next one for you all. Just a couple things changed in this one, but nothing too major. Enjoy!

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In the week that followed the confrontation with Julie Black, Beau's anxiety increased noticeably, though he did his best to hide it. But, of course, I knew better; the signs could not be hidden from me: During his nighttime musings, his speech had been more disjointed than usual, his breathing ragged, and when he woke, he never appeared completely rested. His constantly bouncing knee belied his unease during the daytime hours, as well as the way he seemed to be touching me more, holding me closer—though I wasn't going to complain about _that_ particular symptom. It seemed an unconscious gesture at any rate, so I didn't feel the need to mention it—lest he find a reason to be embarrassed for it. Knowing Beau, he _would_ find a way.

He held far too much tension in his shoulders, which had him in need of pain relief medications—thankfully nothing more than regular strength ibuprofen—nearly every day. When I asked him about his headaches, he told me they were 'nothing'.

I attempted to assuage him multiple times, assuring him there was nothing to be worried about, that Archie would see Victor coming, and we would be ready. I was certain the sadistic monster would not come within ten miles of Beau.

"I'm not worried," he insisted, time and time again, but he wasn't fooling me.

I cursed Julie Black almost unceasingly for bringing this fretfulness down upon him. As I had suspected, it gave Beau no upper hand, whatsoever. If anything, it had begun to give him a disadvantage—distracting him from his studies and interactions with his school friends, not to mention interrupting his nightly rest.

In these few final weeks of his senior year, he was supposed to be spending as much time with his friends as was possible, soaking up the final days of his first high school career. It would never be the same for him after this—he would never again have the genuine relationships he had with his school friends. All future friendships would be scarce, surface level at best, and founded entirely on lies and scams.

It was all fresh and new right now, an entirely _human_ experience, and he was missing out on the best parts of it by worrying about the sadistic vampire intent on his murder! It wasn't _fair_ , and I found myself far too wrapped in my thoughts of both the wolf girl and flame-headed sadist than was remotely pleasurable.

I wondered if Julie Black could have foreseen that exposing him to all of this information would have resulted in _this_ consequence: During one of Beau's evening visits late in the week, he'd decided to bring up the timing of his transformation. He didn't think it wise to wait any longer than we already had to change him. He thought he'd be stronger, more durable, and less of a liability that way.

No one mentioned that a newborn vampire was _far_ larger a liability than protecting a human ever had been, or would be.

"There's nothing to worry about," Archie assured us, as I'd gone tense. _Nobody's gonna give in tonight,_ he assured me. "There's no sign that he's making any kind of plans to return—and besides, I'll see him coming twenty miles off. With the seven of us, he doesn't stand a chance." He clapped Beau on the shoulder, pushing the air out of his lungs with a huff.

"I don't think we should take any chances," Beau persisted, not convinced.

"I think we should stick to the original plan," Carine interjected calmly. "Think of your father—how much it would hurt him if you suddenly disappeared. There are only a few weeks more until graduation."

"It's not worth worrying over," Earnest added, putting a hand on his shoulder, "We're all looking out for you."

"I, for one," Eleanor added, thinking this as good a time as ever to crack one of her jokes, "Am glad Edythe managed not to eat you. One thing's for sure: Life is a whole lot more exciting with you around."

Across the room, Royal gave his wife a disapproving glare, which she did not intercept; she was distracted by the hilariousness of Beau's embarrassment in the face of her scrutiny.

 _This isn't a joke,_ Royal sulked, _Besides—this isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my evening, convincing the human—_ again _—against immortality…_

He headed off to work on his BMW, still grumbling silently in his head. I let him go without looking his way. I didn't know whether I was glad to find new common ground with my brother over the subject of Beau's humanity, or whether I was disturbed over the very fact.

Now, Archie rolled his eyes and socked Beau lightly on the bicep. "Seriously, dude? I'm wounded. Are you doubting my mad skills?"

Beau wouldn't look at Archie; instead he fixed his eyes on me. "It's not that," he muttered. The anxiety was electric in his eyes again, and I stroked his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

"There's no need to rush things," I assured him, hating that it appeared, once again, that he was feeling pushed into his transformation by needless fear. "It's honestly not as bad as you're making it seem in your head. I took you to Florida merely as a precautionary measure."

"Haven't you noticed yet, Beau, that Edythe tends to overreact to even the tiniest things?" Archie added.

An indignant puff of air exited through my nose. Of course I was prone to overreaction. It was what any of them would sit around doing if _their_ mates were as prone to disaster as mine was. It was a terrifying way to pass one's time.

Archie squeezed Jess's fingers, and she took her cue without hesitation. In a matter of seconds, the soothing atmosphere she'd draped over the room like a warm blanket had Beau's heart rate turning to a regular pace, and the rigidness in his eyes all but vanished.

I smiled serenely up at him, pleased and thankful for Jessamine's aid.

But as soon as we were out of the driveway, on our way back to Charlie's house, the tension resurfaced on his face, crinkling his eyebrows and coaxing his knee back into nervous vibrations.

I reached over to lay my hand on his leg, stilling his unconscious movements.

"It's going to fine, Beau," I tried again, "Please, try not to focus on this so much. You are in absolutely no danger. I will not let him hurt you."

For a long moment, his eyes probed mine, as if searching for the other side of the token. I could see the hesitation there, and though it wasn't quite distrust that I witnessed in his eyes, I felt the need to push my point anyway.

"You heard what Archie said. He'll see his decision the moment he makes it, and we'll be ready. And next time, we won't let the wolves distract us."

Beau shook his head. "I still don't think it's a good idea," he insisted, "If Carine's going to change me eventually, what difference do a few measly weeks make?"

I felt my shoulders tense, and my fingers tightened around the steering wheel. I worked to make my words sound relaxed and easy. "Like I said: There's no need to rush things. You're safe, you have protection on all sides of you, and there are—"

"But what about you?" Suddenly, the unease in Beau's eyes intensified, the azure of his irises flaring like gas thrown on a fire. "I don't like—"

"Don't worry about me," I begged him, "Even if I weren't able to predict every one of Victor's moves before he made them, there are six other members of my family to back me up, many with extra talents of their own."

My words seemed to have no effect on the sudden tension in his face and shoulders. He shook his head harder now. "I don't like it," he repeated, "If I was faster, stronger, I'd feel better about everything. Then you wouldn't be in so much danger."

"I'm in no danger."

"We're testing fate by pushing it off," he argued, "I'm telling you—there's no point in waiting."

I stared through the windshield, attempting to control my expression. _No point in waiting…_ Beau and I may not have shared the same view on the subject of his soul regarding eternal life, but I _did_ know this much: I was going to cherish every single moment of his humanity, until the last thud of his heart sounded. It was an incredible, precious gift, and I was not going to squander it over hypothetical _what-ifs._

"That's something you'll have to talk to Carine about… Or, of course, we could inform your mother and father of the coming wedding, and I'll do it anytime." I smiled winningly at him, knowing this was a sure way of putting the conversation to an end.

Beau sighed, looking suddenly apprehensive again, his heart stuttering and then taking off at a firm jog. I tried not to take this reaction personally, knowing it was merely the influence of others he didn't like the prospect of. But after mentioning it only a few times, and having this reaction to all two of the instances where I'd brought the subject up, it was beginning to rub against my self-esteem.

Of course, he'd _agreed_ to the wedding—in theory. But was it something he'd merely agreed to, in order to get what he wanted? Or did he really and truly desire my hand in marriage?

More than anything, I wanted this to be _his_ choice, the step _he_ would feel comfortable enough to make. Willingly and eagerly, I would give him anything and everything I had; but I had no way of knowing if it was enough.

It would answer every niggling fear, concern and worry I had about the deepest parts of _us_ if Beau proposed marriage. Every doubt, every self-conscious matter would be entirely vanquished. If he chose me in such a way, if he found himself sure enough of my companionship to be willing to take my hands in his, to recite the binding, ordaining, age-old vows, who would I be to argue against his assuredness?

Who would I be, but the girl—granted, a girl with copious flaws and drawbacks—but, nevertheless, the girl he not only wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but would be so sure of our union, so sure of his choice in me, that he would be willing to declare it in front of friend and family alike?

I forced myself to accept that a big wedding was, most likely, out of the question. Beau would cower beneath the idea of such a spectacle. But it would be enough to have the vows, to have each other, to have the promise of a lifetime between and before us…

All of this distracted me in the preceding moments before I parked the car in front of his house. The porch light was on, the flickering blue light behind the living curtain giving proof that Charlie was still up, watching the sports highlights while he waited for his son to arrive home.

It was still well before curfew, but we both wanted to continue to stay in Chief Swan's good graces.

"I'll see you soon," I murmured, and leaned across the gearshift so I could kiss him goodbye—even if it was only for a few minutes.

While he and Charlie engaged in their typical evening conversation, after which Beau would go upstairs to shower, I ran a quick circuit around the town's limits, keeping a nose out for any hint of Victor's familiar scent. I trusted my brother's foresight exponentially, but I wasn't taking any chances. There was nothing but the scent of a few unfamiliar wolves, amongst the recognizable. Was it possible their numbers had increased?

I made a mental note to speak to my family about this later, and then, after leaving my car at home, I returned to Beau's house by way of the darkened forest. He was yet to be finished with his shower when I scaled the west wall and climbed through his window, so I went to sit in the rocking chair in the corner while I waited.

He walked in a few moments later, with skin flushed a delicious, warm pink color, hair still damp, and dressed in clean sleeping clothes. When he saw me, his face broke into a grin so gorgeous I found myself smiling widely back. I couldn't have quashed the joy that exploded in my chest if I'd tried.

He crossed the room to me, dropping to his knees on the floor and lifted a hand to hold it alongside my face. The warmth was heavenly, and my eyes closed automatically in pleasure.

"I missed you," I breathed.

"I always miss you."

When my eyes slid back open, we simply gazed at each other for an immeasurable amount of time. I watched him so intently that I noticed the instant his expression changed. It was an almost imperceptible shift in his brow, and his eyes wandered my face.

His hand moved, his thumb stroking a languid line across the edge of my cheekbone.

"It's been too long since you've been hunting," he noted, and I realized his eyes were now fixed on the purple shadows underneath my obsidian gaze.

I lifted my hand to his, holding it still against my face as he stroked the edge of my cheekbone again. "I'm fine. Don't concern yourself with that."

Beau shook his head. "Don't torture yourself on account of me."

"Who says I'm—"

"I do." There was no room for argument in his tone and he lifted himself higher on his knees so we were exactly eye-level. "You've fed on nothing but elk and rabbits since we got back from Italy. It's time you go bag yourself a mountain lion or two."

It was true that I'd been pushing my feeds out farther than was probably wise. I made it into the park once every three or so weeks, and fed well enough on the local prey there. It sustained me, which was all that mattered. Besides, I hated to leave him. I hated to be _absent_ from him.

Not only did it continue to illicit very real, physical pain in my body when we were apart, but there was a limited time I had left with his warm, fragile gentleness now, and I hated to miss even one of his heartbeats.

It was clear our separation caused him pain, as well. If I returned in the night, his breathing was always harsher, his movements jerky and less-restrained. If I returned during the day, there was an unmistakable tension in his eyes and shoulders—just a flicker of some emotion I couldn't put a name to, but that, nevertheless, terrified me.

So I didn't mind the very minimal nagging from the cravings in the back of my mind. They were made negligible in the face of more important things. And Beau's wellbeing would always be more important than any sort of pleasure of my own.

I shook my head now, smiling softly, tenderly, and ran my fingers through Beau's damp hair. He truly didn't understand the depth of my care for him.

"You were _over_ -due to go last weekend," he continued to push, "But instead, you took me to Florida."

"It was my pleasure to do so. It was lovely to see your mother again—"

"Stop that," he nearly snapped, real emotion rising in his eyes now. "There's no need for you to suffer." The indignant firmness gave way to unveiled concern. I hated to see the pain in his eyes, especially when I was the one to cause it.

I sighed softly. "If it would ease your concerns, I will go this weekend."

"Further than the Park," he ordered. "Make a day or two of it. Jessamine and Eleanor should go, too." He decided this with an almost absent nod of his head.

This amused me, and I couldn't help but smile again. "A girl's weekend," I confirmed.

"Sure," Beau said, smiling more easily now.

Before too long, he began to yawn and I stood, taking his hand to pull him toward the bed. We curled up together, my head on his chest—my favorite position to lie in, so that I could listen to thump of his heart underneath his breastbone.

I began to hum his nocturne, and within minutes, he was asleep.

Not too long after, the talking began, and I was pleased to find that he slept much more soundly tonight than he had all week. He murmured a few things about running and mountain lions, and then drifted into deeper sleep, becoming still.

I stayed until I was confident I wouldn't miss anything, and then I rose from the bed, tucking the quilt in tighter around the space I'd vacated so he wouldn't feel my absence.

I saw the stray notebook sitting on the edge of his desk, and decided to leave him a short note. Something to remind him that even when parts of me may be physically absent, my love never would be.

 _._

" _I hurt with the insatiate longing, until I feel that there will never be any relief until I take a long, deep, wild draught on your lips."_

 _I am never entirely whole when we are apart—my heart, it stays with you. It is yours._

 _I'll be back before you know it. I love you._

 _E. xoxo_

 _._

Archie, of course, was waiting for me when I returned home a few minutes later.

"Girls' weekend." He waggled his eyebrows at me. "It's been awhile since you've had one of those."

"You already informed them, I see," I said as I mounted the porch steps.

"Obviously."

"You'll stay close, in case he needs you?"

Archie folded his arms across his chest, and wondered if he knew of any vampire psychiatrists he'd met in the past.

I rolled my eyes.

 _Yes, I'll stay close. Fifteen minutes tops—this guy's gotta eat too._ "It's a good thing he's not as worked up about this as you are—at least one of you can think logically. It's only a matter of time before you snap." He winked at me, only teasing. He saw no catastrophes that had anything to do with my abated thirst; but he still didn't see how I could go so long without hunting larger game. _It must be your size,_ he thought, _Is that why you're so tiny?_

"Skinhead," I scoffed at him, smirking.

"Imp," he retorted good-naturedly.

"There she is!" Eleanor crowed then, coming out the door with Jessamine right on her tail. "Let's get out of here, already! Jess and I've been waiting for _hours_! Does it really take him that long to fall asleep?"

Innocent curiosity was at the forefront of her mind, filling her thoughts with the possible ways Beau and I passed the evening hours in his narrow bed.

I glared at her. "Cut it out."

"What?" she cried, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. "A girl has to wonder!"

"True," Jessamine intoned.

I rolled my eyes. "Did I really agree to spend an entire weekend with you two?"

"You sure did!" Eleanor nearly chirruped, swiping as if to grab me in a playful headlock, but I skipped quickly out of her reach.

She pouted at me. "You don't play fair."

"I never claimed to."

Jessamine locked her gaze with mine over Eleanor's shoulder. _I'll hold her down if you wanna throw the punch._

Eleanor was too distracted trying _not_ to think of her next move to notice my miniscule nod at my other sister.

Casually, Jess laid her hand on El's shoulder, sending a concentrated wave of lethargy over her . The moment her eyelids slumped, I took the opportunity to dive at her, running my fingers willy-nilly through her voluminous curls, rubbing my palms against her scalp for good measure.

She cried out wordlessly as I danced away, laughing, and swiped blindly at me, the mop of mussed curls obscuring her perception.

"Not fair!" she roared, shoving her locks out of her eyes. "No ganging up on each other!"

"We never claimed to play fair!" Jess and I chorused together, already skipping toward the garage. Eleanor wasn't too upset with us that she wouldn't let us ride in her Jeep.

"Have fun!" Archie called after us as we bounced away, "Be nice!"

.

We abandoned Eleanor's Jeep somewhere past Great Falls, Montana, when Jessamine and I grew too impatient to begin our hunt.

The sun was just rising when we set out on foot, rearing its head over the craggy range of the Rocky Mountains. Their peaks were heavily tipped with snow, even now, in late May.

Running was faster than even Eleanor's most insane driving, and we made better time as we careened East toward the Superior National Forest range. As far North as we were, a thin covering of snow still resided in the most sheltered parts of the rocky forests, though the upper half of the state had been blessed with clear skies and sunshine this morning. The azure stretch of atmosphere brought the color of Beau's eyes to mind, and though I'd been gone for only a small number of hours, I ached to be by his side again.

Eleanor attempted to start a snowball fight, but there wasn't enough of the powder to create anything meaningful. She quickly abandoned her game, and headed off in search of a black bear.

Jessamine and I wandered the trees together, a couple hundred yards apart, each keeping our senses open and ready for prey, but neither paying too much attention.

Jessamine was worrying about Archie, and the amount of stress he was under.

 _It's not right, for all of this to be on his shoulders. First the situation in Seattle, now Victor, and Beau's every move now, too? Something's going to slip through, and he'll blame himself if he misses something…_

I tried to ignore her quiet musing, knowing Jessamine worried far too much about her husband, and that her concerns weren't always rooted in the most solid of logic. Archie would say so if the burden became too much to carry; he wouldn't be so irresponsible, nor prideful, to pretend he could handle it all when he couldn't.

Regardless, Jess's worrying was making me more nervous than I ought to be. I tried to tune her out as best I could, knowing focusing on her inner monologing would do me no good today. It would be best to focus on myself and my hunting tactics, the better to feed quickly, so that I could return to Forks and be with Beau again.

It didn't take long to catch a scent. I let the banal instincts lead, closing myself off to emotion and the heart's matters, and for just a few minutes, I allowed myself to orient my every tendency around the most basic, most primal reflexes.

A large lynx prowled the wilderness for his own meal, oblivious to my presence. He barely had a chance to turn and scream at me before I was on him, knocking him from his sinuous stance. All conscious thought was lost in the haze of the feed, and when I resurfaced, Eleanor was standing over me, laughing.

"You're an animal," she teased, "Maybe more than he was." She nodded at the still, blood-drained corpse beneath me.

I shrugged and jumped to my feet. "It's been awhile… Where'd Jess run off to?" I wasn't entirely present, half-focused on catching another scent. The first lynx, though large, had done little to sate my suddenly roaring appetite. I hadn't noticed just how thirsty I'd been, how little the ruminants in Washington had been doing for my appetite.

Eleanor shrugged. "Who knows? Last I saw—"

But I was off again, led entirely by my predator's side, sinking low into a huntress' crouch as I stalked an irritable sounding bear, hungry and fishing in the nearby lake. I came upon the female on the edge of the water, and her blood flowed faster in the moving environment. I fed quickly, eagerly, afraid I would lose a drop of her essence in the current.

When I was nearly halfway finished, my cell phone began to ring in my jacket pocket—thankfully, I'd been standing only knee deep as I fed.

Immediately, every feeding instinct evaporated, and my senses were abruptly needle-sharp. The buzz of my phone—which could only be Archie, which meant bad news was coming—had immediately sobered me.

"What's wrong?" The words escaped as more snarl than actual human voice, the entirety of my focus not yet having shifted from the hunt.

"He vanished again." Archie's voice was hard with acrimonious frustration. "I'm sorry, Edythe—it can only mean one thing."

"Of course," I seethed, trying very hard not to crush the little silver phone between my fingers, reminding myself that I needed it if I wanted all the details. I was already winding through the trees, heading west, when I requested them.

"I don't know—it must have been a snap decision or something. I didn't even see him resolve to anything; he just… Disappeared. It's the only explanation for what could have happened."

"Victor," I rasped, terror seizing my body, pushing my legs harder until the trees around me were just a blur of jade and cinnamon.

"No," he said, his voice hard again, "I would have seen that. Victor hasn't made any decisions yet. It's the wolves—no doubt about it."

A wordless snarl of vengeful rage escaped me. When I got my hands on that _mongrel_ —!

"I went straight to Newton's—he was supposed to be working this morning—but Kevin told me they gave him the day off, 'cause they were over-staffed. I went by the house, too, but his truck wasn't in the driveway. But he's definitely down at La Push, because I followed the truck's trail—unmistakable—all the way to the border, and it didn't stop there."

"Are you there now?" I asked as I crossed the state line.

"Yeah."

" _Stay there_." I hung up the phone and pushed every ounce of speed and strength I could into my legs.

Fear began to latch now, stabbing me through with its barbed needles, eliciting a steady train of irrational, panicked thought.

 _He doesn't have a phone, so he's entirely unreachable! We can't cross the line, so we can't get to him! Has he been hurt? Is he with only Julie Black, or the rest of them as well? Is he well? Is he okay? Is he_ alive _?_

In just over three hours, I was back in Forks, through town in a streak of ivory and bronze, and I had to force myself to slow as I drew closer to the La Push border. Archie was waiting with the Volvo, the front tires inches from the boundary line. He was leaning against the driver's side door, motionless. His eyes were clenched shut, intensely concentrating.

I almost didn't realize I was still stalking toward the border, fists clenched, until Archie caught my wrist and yanked me to a stop.

"Whoa, there," he said, his voice strained, "Easy."

The expression on his face brought me up short, and I abruptly abandoned the childish arm-wrenching reaction I was about to pull. In the next instant, I detected pain in his thoughts. The shame was like a mudslide, easing over my shoulders, adding more burden to the already heavy load of panic, rage and despair. The guilt was an unneeded addition, but entirely warranted. I knew how difficult it was for Archie to watch for things he couldn't see, that it elicited real pain for him.

It was made all the more worse when he began to apologize.

"It's _okay_ , Archie. This isn't your fault."

He appraised me. "It's not yours either."

"It's not?" Immediately, the rage was center stage, an easier emotion to cope with than the ever-present, swarming buzz of hysteria. "Tell me—would this have happened if I'd never gone hunting?"

"Edythe, you _need_ to keep yourself fed."

I turned away and stalked the few feet back to the boundary line, and then paced back again. But it felt wrong to take my eyes off the road Beau had disappeared down, so I revolved again.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I spat, raking my hair away from my face with my fingers, "Wait, I suppose. What else _is_ there to do?"

I felt completely and totally _helpless_ —it was the worst kind of vulnerability imaginable. Trapped, on the other side of a treaty line, powerless to stop any kind of harm that may come to the center of my existence, the human boy I would do _anything_ for. And if I ignored the boundary, well, I'd be starting a war—without the aid of the two strongest members of my family, who I'd abandoned back in Minnesota.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"No—you go home. I know it's hard for you to be so close to them… Call me if you see anything."

"Sure." He squeezed my shoulder, once. "Hey—he'll be okay."

I folded my arms across my middle. "He has to be."

.

The next few hours were some of the worst of my life—it came in a close second to the twenty-four hours I'd thought he was dead. This, somehow, was worse: forced to stand still and wait, not knowing if he was well.

Time slowed to a crawl, each second stretching into minutes as I waited for either the news that Beau's future had reappeared, or for the physical sound of his approaching truck. There was only one road that connected La Push to Forks. He would show up sooner or later… He had to. My brain could not conceive an alternative.

As I had done so much of in the weeks and months I'd been separated from him, I again found myself bartering with the urge to go to him.

 _If he's not back by sunset, I'm going after him, treaty or no treaty…_

Dangerous, careless thoughts—and they only grew more groundless and less disciplined as the minutes passed.

 _If he doesn't show up by two o' clock—that's when he was supposed to meet up with Allen and Becca to help with her graduation announcements… Then I'll go…_

 _I'll give him one more hour, and then I'm going in—no matter the consequences._

Fortunately for everyone, I didn't make it to the hour mark. Fifteen minutes and eight seconds later, as the clock turned 1:30, I heard the distant, harsh rumble of his truck's engine.

Every anxious thought vanished when he came into view around the bend. Archie had parked on the shoulder, in the deep shade of the hemlock trees, so I wasn't all that surprised when Beau passed without seeing me. The relief was a potent, cleansing force inside me as I wheeled around to follow him.

He didn't look in his rearview mirror as he coasted along at a sensible speed, back toward town. I watched his face intently in his mirrors for any hint of distress or emotional upset, but I was surprised to see that he appeared quite content. There was a small smile on his lips as he bobbed his head, in an almost unconscious gesture, to the music on the radio.

An abrupt swell of insecurity rose inside of me. I attempted to battle back the self-centered anger that rose in conjunction with the self-doubt. It made me wonder how he could have no disregard for my feelings, the anxiety and terror I'd gone through while he'd been on the other side of the line. Could he really not know what his running off had put me through?

If he'd been aware of the effect it had on me, surely he would not have gone through with such an unreasonable stunt. Archie had told me there had been no pre-meditation at all on Beau's part—which meant he hadn't taken the time to think twice about how _I_ would feel about all of this. He hadn't given a moment of thought to the numerous times I'd warned him against the danger of the wolves; he hadn't thought about how not knowing whether he was safe or not would eat at my sanity. He'd left on a simple _whim_ , and what was more… He'd left to be with _her_ …

The jealousy was an overwhelming, itching creature—crawling across my skin, and sinking deep into my psyche, exacerbating the self-doubt and insecurity.

Was it _me_? Was I doing something wrong? Was I not giving him enough of what he needed; was there something he was missing? It made me wonder what kind of affect Julie had on him, that he would take his first opportunity of a day spent without me, to go running off to her. How desperate was his need to be with her, that he would put me through this sort of misery to achieve it?

The envious thoughts only grew more apparent as I followed Beau into town and past the turn-off for his house. Now, knowing he was safe and out of harm's way, the jealousy was as apparent as the sun, shining overhead. How could I not have noticed before, just how largely the iniquitous emotion loomed inside me?

Of course, Julie Black was a volatile, dangerous monster—but there was a part of her, a warm, _human_ part, that I could not deny. She had been an undeniable, driving force toward some sense of normalcy in Beau's life in the time that I'd been gone. He'd made it clear to me just how much she'd helped him through those difficult months, and it didn't take a mastermind to see the unprecedented bond the two shared in light of those times.

In Julie's presence, there was something _else_ there in Beau's expression that I'd never seen in our own shared time. Good-natured joking seemed to come to the two naturally. He smiled more around her, held himself differently… How could I _not_ doubt myself?

A few blocks later, Beau pulled up to the curb in front of a humble, two-story home I knew belonged to the Cheneys. It was difficult to convince myself, as I coasted by his parked truck, that he wasn't simply keeping a promise to his friends as much as he was avoiding talking to me. His downcast eyes drove the stabbing blade of self-doubt deeper, confirming my own suspicions. He _was_ avoiding me…

I left Beau to his afternoon with his friends, trying not to let the steadily darkening thoughts get the best of me.

Once I checked in with Archie, though I was confident he already knew Beau was safely back over the line, I left my car at home and ran to the Swan residence.

I waited in his room for what felt like hours, the bright contrasts of light and dark shifting and changing shape as the sun moved across the sky.

 _You brought this on yourself,_ the black hiss of insecurity whispered in the back of my head.

Truly, this had been my own doing. Hadn't it been my absence that had driven him into the arms—metaphorical or not—of another? And I had to admit to myself that his stubborn tendency to continue to see her concerned me in no small amount. I didn't understand _why_ he would feel the need to fight me so hard on this, unless… But my mind would not entertain the horrible doubts about myself, in comparison to the wolf girl.

The jealousy took hold once more, with a vengeance, as the phone rang downstairs, and the conversation between Charlie and Bonnie Black ensued.

"Hey, Bonnie—long time no chat."

"Too long," the woman's husky voice had agreed, "I'm glad Beau came down to visit Julie today. They, too, went too long without seeing each other."

"Oh, did he make it down there today? That's great. I've been trying to convince him to do that for awhile now…"

 _Why_ , if he was so happy with me, if he'd agreed—albeit, tentatively—to marry me, was he so entirely unable to let her go, despite the danger she posed?

Finally, the sound of Beau's approaching truck reached my ears.

"That you, kid?" Charlie called when he came in the door.

"Yeah." I heard him kick his shoes off in the front entryway, and pad across the hall in his socks to stand in the sitting room archway.

"How was your day?" Charlie inquired, and then unable to help himself, tacked on, "Heard you made it down to La Push."

"Yeah, uh, Kevin didn't need me at the store. They were overstaffed, so I thought I'd pay Jules a quick visit."

"How's she doin'?"

"Pretty good."

"You make it over to the Cheneys'?"

"Yep. We got everything addressed and stamped. Allen's pretty sure that'll take a good load off Becca's plate, so…"

"Good. Great. I'm glad to see you spending some of your free time with your other friends."

"Me, too," Beau confirmed.

The words raked me through with another draught of insecurity. What did _that_ mean? Was he happy to have time away from me? Was I smothering him?

Though I fought against the black thoughts, they only became more and more irrational—farther fetched and, yet, more difficult than ever to argue against—the longer I waited for Beau to come upstairs.

I heard him shuffle into the kitchen, knowing he was delaying the inevitable. He had to have known I was waiting for him; it was the only logical explanation for his jumping heartbeat and continued stalling.

He crossed the hallway again, hesitating a few minutes too long in the living room entryway again. Was he doing this on purpose, to drive me insane?

Finally, he said, glumly, "Guess I'm gonna go study…"

"See you later," Charlie told him as Beau turned for the stairs.

He took the steps slowly, and when he entered his bedroom, he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, shoulders turned away, as he clicked it shut behind him. Beau drew a visible breath, and then turned to face me, where I was sitting in the rocking chair in the corner, draped in shadows.

We stared at each other for a long moment, and for once, I was left utterly speechless. The influx of emotion was entirely too overwhelming to speak through. I didn't know whether to laugh in relief that he was alive and intact, all appendages accounted for, or to cry for the horror I'd gone through in the last few hours.

Finally, he spoke: "Hey."

I didn't answer, still not sure of my voice. My thoughts whirled sickeningly, and I realized, maybe for the first time, the seriousness of the entire situation. I had come within inches of breaking the decades-long treaty to ensure Beau had been all right. I had been inches from instigating an all-out war between species.

It was impossible to even entertain the idea that Beau took my concerns seriously in this moment, and the internal discord inside me strengthened. I stayed very still, in order to control the cacophony of my thoughts and emotions.

"So… Uh… I survived," he added, and the words very nearly broke me. He'd attempted to make a joke of the very, _very_ serious occurrences of the day, and I wanted to scream. Or cry. Or better yet, jump out this window, run to La Push, and make sure nothing like this could _ever_ happen again.

Instead, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to compose myself. When I spoke, the words were just a breath. "I don't think you understand the seriousness with which I considered crossing the line today."

"B-but," Beau stammered, his voice all at once panicked, joking extinguished, "That would have broken the treaty."

"Yes," I whispered, and opened my eyes to look up at him, "Yes, it would have."

His eyes were wide as he shook his head frantically. "You can't break the rules like that, Edythe. They'd accept any excuse for a fight—"

"Maybe they aren't the only ones looking for a fight," I snapped, bombarded by the masochistic, pleasurable urge to snap Julie Black in two. _Maybe_ if she realized what she was up against…

Beau's expression abruptly fell, appearing at once crestfallen and aghast.

I took another breath to again compose myself. "Beau," I beseeched, exhaling, "I know you don't have the best understanding of what is or isn't dangerous, what with the company you regularly keep, but I _need_ you to understand that Julie Black and the wolves are _dangerous_. More than you can imagine, and I don't—"

"Look," he said, cutting me off, "You don't need to worry about me—I was completely fine."

"I had _no way_ of knowing that," I hissed, and the frustration rose greatly in response to his inability to perceive the situation from a logical mindset. "They're perilous, Beau, _please_ understand that. Their self-control is limited in the worst way—"

"Jules is no more dangerous to me than you are," he argued, and the finality of his statement was so infuriating that I had to clench my teeth against a vicious snarl.

I struggled to quell the rage, which I knew was only a prelude to the darker, more insecure emotions I was feeling underneath all the anger. I stared, without speaking, across the length of the room at him, rigid with tension.

This was an enigmatic impasse we would surely never solve. He was so sure the wolves posed no danger to him, that they were of little to no threat, and I knew he would stop at nothing in his attempt to convince me of this fact. But I knew better. I knew their predisposition to impulsiveness and beastliness, and I would not be persuaded.

I realized for the first time that neither of us had made a move to go to the other. It was typically a matter of seconds before we were in physical contact, but this was not the only contact I felt we were suddenly in absence of. A chasm, fraught with stubbornness, unresolved emotions, and unanswerable questions, suddenly stretched between us.

The burden of this separation was, by far, worse than the lack of physical proximity, and my heart cried out against it.

The sudden pain of the distance between us instilled a longing to be near him—a longing so intense that to ignore the build of it only made the pain worse. As if he felt the deep longing as intensely as I did, Beau began to make his way across the room toward me. Standing over me, where I sat curled in the chair, he extended his hand.

I stared at him for a long moment, and then put my fingers in his, unable to resist the gesture. He pulled me to my feet, and then encircled me in his arms, pulling me into his chest.

My rage and tension immediately softened in response to his warm embrace, the even timbre of his breathing, and the feel of his chin on top of my head.

The last rays of the afternoon sun had made their way in through his window, catching the motes of dust floating in the air and creating a hazy, almost ethereal effect—like fairy dust, dancing and swirling in the atmosphere. I watched its languid, graceful, eddying movements, and allowed the motions to relax me.

"I'm sorry," Beau whispered after a long moment of quiet.

"You don't know how worried I've been." I doubted he would ever know the severity of my concern—if he would ever comprehend what it was like to be his protector, to base an enormous part of my self-identity in such a roll, and be left entirely powerless to do _anything_ to help him, all in a moment's notice.

Beau sighed and pressed his lips to the crown of my head. "Sorry," he said again, "You weren't supposed to even know. I thought you'd be gone longer." He pulled back then, just a little, and I felt his hand under my chin, tugging. Complying with his request, I tilted my face up so he could gaze down at me. His eyes were concerned, searching, and when they locked with mine, they turned critical.

"You didn't hunt at all," he ascertained, "Now you'll just have to leave again."

It shouldn't have brought me such joy to hear the disappointment over my eventual departure in his voice. This softened my hardened demeanor even more. I didn't bother telling him I _had_ , in fact, fed. The amount of essence that had made it into my nearly empty system was negligible anyway, and my eyes had darkened even faster than was usual over the course of the afflicting afternoon anyway.

"It can wait."

Beau shook his head. "This is ridiculous," he muttered.

"What is?"

"I mean, don't you think you're overreacting a little?" he appraised me skeptically, "I spent _weeks_ around Jules when she was new to shifting—" I flinched "—and nothing ever happened then. You have to trust that I'll be—"

"Do not say fine."

"— _fine_. The pack doesn't want to hurt people; they want to _protect_ them. They're more in control of themselves than you think they are. Besides, I can't make any promises not to go down there again. Jules needs me right now; what kind of friend would I be if I wasn't there for her when she needed the support? Especially when she's been there for me. So just… Please. Try and take it easy, and _trust me_."

"I _do_ trust you," I said lowly, "It's _her_ I don't trust…" I shook my head. "I'm not opening this conversation up to negotiation. If you can't see reason about this, then I'm going to have to advocate for the both of us. I say it's not safe, and you won't be going to La Push again."

Beau's expression turned abruptly incredulous, his eyebrows arching and his eyes going wide. His mouth opened, and then closed, and then the words seemed to pour unthinkingly: "Is this really _just_ about my safety?" They were said with the heat and impulsivity of a tense conversation, and abruptly, I regretted having waited here for him. Maybe I should have given it some time, confirmed that both of us had had enough time to cool off before we'd gone ahead with this discussion.

"Pardon me?" Of course, I realized what he'd been alluding to immediately, but I bought us a few extra seconds anyway.

His face was regretful now, even embarrassed. The prickle in my throat alerted me to the rise of blood flush underneath his skin. "I mean…" he said hesitantly after a minute, "You know better than… To be… _Jealous_ , right?"

I thought about this—seriously considered it. Jealousy was a relatively new concept to me, having only been under its influence for just over a year or so—which was really a very short time in comparison to the several decades I'd already lived in its absenteeism.

I wanted to deny his claim, but the sudden sinking sensation in my stomach only confirmed my feelings of inadequacy and envy.

In theory, I supposed I knew better. But in actuality… Did I believe I had no reason to be jealous of their unique relationship? Did I have no reason to be irritated over his insistence to continue his dangerous rendezvous with her?

I didn't answer for a long minute, but Beau didn't say a word—only waited for my answer.

I sighed, shaking my head a little. "Regardless of my feelings, your safety is my only priority. If your wellbeing was not in serious jeopardy while in the presence of the wolf, I would never stop you from seeing your friend." I gazed up at him with pleading eyes, hating that it had to be this way.

He seemed convinced of my sincerity, sighing heavily. "Okay," he relented heavily, "I get it, I do. But you need to know something." I tensed in his arms. "When it comes to all this _Bad Blood_ crap, vampires-versus-werewolves stuff, you need to know that I'm not taking any sides. I'm neutral, like…" He deliberated a moment, seeming to decide on an appropriate comparison. "Switzerland," he finally blurted, "I'm neutral like Switzerland. If you and Jules are gonna be all Germany-and-Austria, I'm the country outside the politics and the arguments about treaties and stuff. Just so you know. 'Cause I can't choose between you. Jules is my best friend—well, maybe more than that. She's family."

I cringed once more as I contemplated the undeniable gravity of Julie Black's place in Beau's life. The age-old trio of guilt, shame and regret flickered to wakefulness inside my mind once more. Most of the time, I was able to battle them into a locked away sort of submission, but they flared to life now.

 _If only I had never left… If only I'd given him any other choice than to put his life in the hands of a mongrel… Then he would never think of her as family…_

But when I forced myself to consider all the ways she'd been there for him, and I had not, I could not deny that she deserved the entitlement…

"And you…" Beau continued, "Well, you're the girl I'm going to love for the rest of—well, not my life, because I don't plan on dying anytime soon, but—my forever, so…"

I was stunned by his romantic declaration in the midst of our argument. If I could have found the words to speak, I would have done so in this moment, but he continued his tirade.

"It doesn't matter to me who's a werewolf, or who's a vampire… All that matters is that you both matter a lot to me, and I see you as people—nothing less. If Allen turns out to be a wizard, he can join the club too."

I watched him carefully, realizing how serious this was to him. It really was _that_ simple. No species segregation, no prejudice—just the people he loved. Friends, family, and whatever it took to keep every one of them happily a part of his life.

"Switzerland," he reiterated.

I sighed, and rested my head against his chest again, smiling softly. Not for the first time, I found myself in awe of his stunning tenderness, humility and self-sacrificing nature. Truly, I had never met a human as kind, softhearted and non-judgmental as Beau.

As these placid, pleasant thoughts made their way across the screen of my mind, a not-so-pleasant awareness began to dawn. I felt my expression sour.

"Beau…"

"What now?" he muttered, his disapproval clear from where he rested his cheek against my hair. Obviously, he thought I wasn't finished with the fight. He couldn't have been more wrong. I was tired, too.

"Don't take this personally," I began softly, reaching up to run the tip of my finger along the edge of his smooth jaw, and then reaching up to run my fingers through his soft hair, "But you absolutely reek of dog."

Beau only laughed, burying his face in my hair, and it was like the day had never even happened.

.

 **A/N:** Bit of a "shorter" one this time, AND I've combined a couple of chapters, because Edythe's involvement in the original chapters 'Nature' and 'Imprint' was quite limited.

Credit for the quote Edythe left in her short letter to Beau goes to Warren Harding. I wish there were books out there that I could read entirely consisting of a couple's love letters, back and forth. The hopeless romantic in me swoons… :)

Let me know your thoughts on this chapter if you have a free moment, and I'll see you next time, friends! xo


	6. Bribery

**A/N:** I hope everyone had a lovely Valentines Day! I know I ate way too much chocolate and candy, but—y'know, everything in moderation, and Valentine's Day comes once a year. You only live once ;) I found myself listening to "Sons and Daughters" by Allman Brown & Liz Lawrence pretty much on repeat while I was writing this chapter. It'll probably make a reappearance in my BD playlist as well. If you have time, you should check it out, and the lyrics. It's just an all-around, great, every-day Love Song.

Proceed with caution on this one, folks. It gets a lil… Spicy! ;)

.

Unfortunately, my interrupted hunt caught up to me by midweek.

Another trip was scheduled for the coming weekend. Carine was the one to suggest the retreat. It wasn't often the four of us—Carine, my sisters and I—had the chance to go off on a hunting expedition on our own.

My mother liked to stay up to date on the wildlife situation in the various national parks, always wanting to make the best of the worst parts of her nature. The Sequoia National Park was due to reopen for the season in just under a week, and the mountain lions' breeding habits had gotten out of hand. Carine had recently read an article about the state deeming it necessary to trap and relocate some of the animals, but it was easy enough for us to do our part and lighten their workload.

With that plan set in motion, the only other thing left to pin down was what I was going to do with Beau while I was away. The only thing I could conceive of was having Archie stay with him, and rotate our shifts—so to speak—so that, once I'd returned, he could leave to feed himself. I hesitated over putting him up to this; it really wasn't fair, but again—I could think of nothing else to ensure Beau's safety.

Regardless, I was sure Archie wouldn't see his duties as a chore. He considered Beau his best friend, and I doubted he would complain much about having to spend more time with him.

Sure enough, when I returned home shortly after 10:30 on Wednesday evening, Archie met me at the door, grinning widely.

"Sure, I'll do it."

"Oh, I've decided to ask you about that, have I?" I inquired sarcastically as I shut the door behind me.

"The only thing you haven't decided on is what you're going to bribe me with." He grinned angelically. "If you're looking for suggestions…"

I arched an eyebrow at him.

He ticked the options off on one hand. "Your first option was nice, but Jess already bought it, and she's waiting till Christmas to give it me. Your second choice was good, too, but I won't find a lot of opportunity to use it, so why waste the effort?" He turned an impish grin on me. "Now, that third option… That shiny, yellow, _fast_ option… I think that's the best one of all."

I rolled my eyes. "You're incorrigible. Has anyone _ever_ taken you by surprise?"

"Just because I can see it coming, doesn't mean it's not a great gift."

I couldn't help laughing at his audacity, and playfully shoved at his arm. "Thanks, Archie," I said, and my mood was abruptly sober. "I know he's not going to be overly pleased by this, but it's the only way I can think of to keep him safe."

"He'll come around." I eyed him dubiously. "Sooner or later," he added, chuckling.

.

The matter was settled quickly: Archie would collect Beau from work Thursday evening and take him back to our place, where he would stay the night. They would attend school as per usual on Friday, and then spend the night together again. I would make sure to be back by Saturday, and with Archie's Porsche 911 purchased and parked in the garage, all of my hunting trips were covered for the foreseeable future.

As secure in the plan as I felt, I knew Beau would not be so happy to discover he'd been taken captive and held against his will. I did what I could to ensure he'd be as comfortable as possible, stocking the kitchen with his favorite Pop Tarts, candy and soda, purchasing the full series of _Die Hard_ movies—which I knew he enjoyed, even if he didn't want to admit to it. I even went out of my way to purchase the newest gaming system—a joint gift for both him and Archie—to keep him busy and, most importantly, distracted.

But the biggest concession I'd made now dominated the north-facing wall of my bedroom. I tilted my head to the side, wondering if I'd gone overboard by ordering the king-sized mattress instead of the queen.

Eleanor's thoughts preceded her footfalls as she ascended to the third level of the house.

 _Hope she's ready to head out… I'm amped for some mountain lion wrestling… Not as fun as wrestling grizzlies, but a close second, I'd say—Holy hell._

"Holy hell." Her stunned inner thoughts filtered into her physical voice as she pulled up short in the doorway of my room. "That's a bed."

"Congratulations, El—you passed Interior Design 101," I muttered wryly, and stepped forward to straighten the corner of the plush duvet.

"Why the hell… Is there a bed… In your room?"

I groaned quietly, feeling my shoulders tense against the onslaught of her unspoken suspicions.

 _You knew they'd all react this way when you bought the bed,_ I reminded myself.

In the Cullen house, beds were used for one thing, and one thing only. In fact, it was a reasonable assumption to make as any, except for the fact that, in our case, it just wasn't so.

"Beau will need a place to sleep while he's here—"

"Ha!" Eleanor guffawed, "You expect me to believe that, little Edy?" She turned her eyes, alight with fascinated understanding, on my face, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself against her words. "Aww, is my baby sister finally ready to give up her V card?"

"El…" I groaned, mortified.

"Yeesh, it's about time, too," she continued, ignoring my embarrassment as she flopped onto the mattress, kicking her feet in the air. "Good support!" she commented, "Almost as sturdy as mine and Roy's." Eleanor spread her arms wide, scrunching the comforter I'd just painstakingly straightened. "Though I guess you wouldn't need _as_ much support, seeing as Beau's still human…" She trailed off, puzzled. "How are you gonna swing that, anyway? I guess the only way would be to put the reigns in his hands, eh?" She quirked her eyebrows suggestively at me, and I put my face in my hands.

At that moment, Jessamine decided to join us upstairs, wondering what was taking us so long.

"For the love of all that is holy…" I groaned under my breath as my second sister stepped into the room. When her eyes fell upon the bed, Eleanor, spread eagle and all, her eyes widened.

"Edy," she cooed, "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

 _Are the plans soon? I could help you get ready—we could go shopping for lingerie in Seattle. Pick up some rose petals for the bed… Wine… Does Beau drink wine…? Anyway. I'll make sure everyone's gone, so you'll have the house to yourselves, of course…_

"There are no _plans_ ," I insisted, as they both appraised me with open fascination, neither of them believing me.

"Y'know, if you need any pointers, I'd be happy to give you some," El offered, rolling onto her front.

I gritted my teeth. "The bed is to be used for its original purpose only. So that Beau can sleep comfortably tonight and tomorrow, and any other succeeding night that he may spend here."

El cocked an eyebrow at me. "Again—you're not fooling anyone with your little story."

"It's not a story!" I cried, throwing my hands in the air. "It's the entire and complete truth! Beau will be staying the night with Archie and Royal. They'll probably eat pizza, chug Mountain Dew, and play video games until the wee hours of the morning—or, Beau will anyway. And when he gets tired, I figured it would only be appropriate for him to have a soft place to lay his head!"

They weren't hearing me; they weren't even listening.

Jessamine went to perch on the edge of the mattress beside El, giving it a little bounce.

"Great suspension," she commented.

"UGH!"

Eleanor grinned at me, and Jessamine gave me a sympathetic glance.

"No need to get all bent out of shape over it," El teased.

"It's normal to be nervous for your first time," Jessamine said simultaneously, her voice soothing and understanding. "If you're ever looking for some _real_ advice, my door is always open."

"For _God's sake_! I'm _not_ looking for _advice_ , I _don't_ need any _lingerie_ or _pointers_ or rose petals—because _I. Am. Not. Having. Sex. With. Beau!_ "

"Suuuure."

"ARCHIE!"

A moment later, Archie poked his head around the corner, grinning. "You rang?"

I pointed an accusing finger at my sisters, who were busy, respectively, admiring the beadwork on the throw pillows, and making an angel in the feather-stuffed duvet. I thought it was pretty obvious who was doing what.

" _Tell them_ I am not planning on seducing Beau!"

Archie turned toward his wife and sister, and said, completely tonelessly and without inflection, "Edythe is not planning on seducing Beau."

El and Jess broke into laughter, and I rolled my eyes, folding my arms tightly across my chest. "Thanks, Archie…" I said sarcastically, glaring daggers at my brother, the only hope I'd had of getting me out of this situation.

Archie chuckled. "Note: I said you're not _planning_ on seducing him…"

I gaped, my mouth falling open with a pop as various images floated through Archie's head: Beau and I, prone on the bed, kissing. Beau and I, on the bed, my leg hitched over his hip. Beau and I, on the bed, him on his back, and me kneeling over him, our lips locked in a passionate exchange, wherein my tongue was tracing the irresistible shape of his lips…

"No," I tried to say, but the word escaped my mouth in the absence of sound.

Archie shrugged.

El and Jess exchanged a knowing glance.

 _I knew it,_ Eleanor thought smugly.

 _Being in denial about it isn't going to change anything,_ Jessamine mused.

"I am _not_ having sex with Beau," I said, the words escaping in barely a shocked, ragged whisper.

"Say what you want, sex kitten," Eleanor said, rising from the bed and smoothing the duvet, "But this bed says otherwise."

"My offer to take you lingerie shopping still stands," Jess added.

"I. Am. Not. Having. _Sex_!" I repeated, gaining volume steadily, my voice shooting through several octaves.

"Really, Edythe," Royal said from his room downstairs, "There's no need to broadcast your poor excuse for a love life. We all know how pathetic it is."

.

I was instructed to turn my cell phone off and leave it in Carine's glove box for the duration of our trip. Archie took the time to assure me, one last time before I left, that he had things handled at home, and that it was about time I had a weekend to myself.

Though I trusted my brother's security detail, I couldn't _help_ but worry. And with Beau's physical safety ensured, my mind easily made room for the deeper workings of my subconscious thought to shine through.

However, I pushed these doubts and qualms aside, quickly giving myself over to my hunting reflex when we reached the Northern Coast. I caught the scent of a couple of mountain lions immediately upon arrival, and it was hours later before I was forced to face any sort of conscious thought.

The sun was coming up over the ocean, a beautiful show of orange, magenta and peach shades. As secluded as we were in the national park that was still closed to the public, I was able to allow the warmth of the sun's rays to touch my skin as it rose.

I watched its ascent contemplatively, the reluctant musings coming to mind once more.

I had to remind myself that Beau and I were from completely different eras—separated by almost a century of updated social norms and modern ideas about independence somehow equating to a longer continuum of singleness. In theory, I could understand why he might be so hesitant to jump headlong into wedding planning. I didn't expect him to buy me a ring and get down on one knee. For one, his financial resources could go toward something much more reasonable—like school. Secondly, I didn't want to put him up to anything he might be uncomfortable with. Proposals these days were done very differently from the way they'd occurred back in my day, and for all I knew, his agreement to an August wedding had been sufficient enough for him.

I could understand that he might be young and scared to make such an entirely encompassing commitment so soon. But then, why was he so confident about his coming immortality? Wasn't dedicating himself to an eternal life of night and murderous cravings much more serious than mere matrimony?

Were my overbearing tendencies to blame? Did I truly exaggerate things so much so that Beau felt smothered? I had never wanted to force him into anything, least of all his commitment to me… If there were any way to release the tight fist of control I constantly felt the need to exert over his life, maybe it would give him room to think… to decide… to make his own choices about what he truly wanted for his future.

Fear and desperation were no basis for constituting the cessation of his humanity and the commencement of immortality, and maybe, if I were to give him a little more breathing room, he would relax a little about the whole thing.

But how to do such a thing…? The only point of contention I could think of was the Wolf Matter. But to reach a compromise on such a situation was incomprehensible to me. How could I willingly put his wellbeing at such a risk?

I had been so absorbed in my own musings that it took me by surprise when Carine sat down beside me on the cliff-face I'd been watching the sunrise from.

 _You look a little lost… Anything I can do?_

I sighed as she reached for my hand and folded it in hers. "I'm just…"

 _Worrying about Beau?_ she conjectured.

I smirked at her. "Always. But there's more…"

"What are mothers for, but to lend an ear?"

I rolled the thoughts around in my head, trying to formulate a coherent sentence, one she would understand.

"I'm just not sure…"

My hesitance stretched on for so long that she felt the need to speak. "About what?"

"Am I smothering him, do you think? Am I worrying too much—overthinking things?"

"You mean with the wolves?"

"Not just that," I said, sighing, "I just… I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. I worry that I spend too much time stopping Beau from the things he wants to be doing, rather than giving him the freedom to experience his human life. I want him to feel that his friends and family and everything he's leaving behind is in order… I don't want him to feel rushed or pressured. Sometimes I feel as if I'm coming in the way of that. Sometimes I worry that he's just… He's just scared, and he feels as if he might be better off immortal because of that, and that he's rushing into it because of…"

"Beau has never allowed his life to be ruled simply from a standpoint of fear." Carine's voice was low and soft, but her spoken words so firm that I glanced up at her, surprised.

 _You doubt yourself too much,_ she thought sadly. _Beau loves you more than anything._ "You are the one thing I know he is entirely sure about. If there's anything I've learned in over three-hundred years of life, it's this: Everything works itself out. We find a way through—past the controversy, past the doubt and insecurity."

"But I…"

"You are both making magnificent sacrifices for each other—you already have. I think it's understandable he possesses a degree of hesitation. In fact, I think it's wise. Give him time to think. His mind doesn't work as quickly as yours." She reached up to tap my temple gently, smiling tenderly. "And I don't meant that as an insult to his intellect… Your reward will come, Edythe. I'm sure of it."

"Time…" I mused, breathless. There was so little of it left… How was I to comprehend relinquishing more of the small amount with his mortality I had left?

"If I have any right to an opinion, mine would be this: Beau's choice always has been, and always will be, you. He just needs time to work through his own unresolved emotions and realize it. Don't doubt him; but more importantly, please don't doubt yourself."

.

We spent the remainder of the day hunting and taking care of disposal matters.

When we returned to the car and began to make our way toward home, I eagerly pulled my cell phone from the glove box and turned it on. There was one new message, and I put the phone to my ear to listen.

"You are in trouble," Beau's voice said, each word layered with fuming viciousness. "Court-martial, misconduct-level trouble. Expect your sentencing when you get home."

"Oooh," Eleanor said under her breath from the backseat, having overheard the voice-recording, "Somebody's in trouble…"

I ignored her, grinning to myself. As disappointed as I was in the fact that I knew he was angry with me, I couldn't help but find his ill-concealed rage charmingly adorable. I was also happy to know that my plan had worked; he'd been kept safe, though the message had been sent yesterday, and a lot could change in a day.

The flicker of doubt had me beginning to punch in Archie's number, but before I could complete the call, the phone rang in my hand.

"He's completely fine," Archie assured me before I could greet him, which instantly raised my suspicions.

"When was he _not_ completely fine?" I inquired apprehensively.

"Well…" When he hesitated, I felt my teeth bare. "There _may_ have been a situation… But everything is all and well now and he's asleep in your bed and I, for one, don't think he'll be going back anytime soon."

"Going _back_?" The rage was a vicious animal in my throat.

"Julie Black _may_ have abducted him from school this afternoon on her motorcycle. And Beau _may_ have returned home on his _own_ motorcycle, drenched and muddy with his hair plastered to his head—looking real upset about something, might I add. And he _may_ have not wanted to say anything about it, so I still don't know what happened, but physically, he's fine."

"And by 'may', you mean 'completely and totally happened'."

"You know, I don't think he enjoyed our little hang-out as much as you thought he would," Archie said, his tone indifferent. "He barely touched that gaming console, and we didn't even make it through the entire _Die Hard_ series…"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. All that mattered now was that he was safe. And because Archie had assured me of that, I tried not to be too angry with him for letting Beau slip through his fingers.

"For the record," he added then, lightening my mood perceptibly, "I think that wolf girl did a pretty thorough job of putting her foot in her mouth. Something tells me he doesn't have many plans to go running off to La Push again anytime soon."

I sighed. So maybe there wasn't anything— _at all_ —I could say or do to stop Beau from finding his way around my attempts to keep him from the wolves. But that didn't change their tendency to lose their tempers quickly. Obviously, Julie Black had found some way to shoot herself in the foot. Though I hated the idea of her offending Beau in any way whatsoever, I hoped it had insulted him enough that he thought it better to stay away from now on.

"Thanks, Archie," I said placidly.

"Sure thing. Anytime. See you in… Three hours and twenty two minutes," he added brightly.

"See you."

Of course, the other occupants of the car had overheard our conversation. Though Jessamine and Carine were careful to keep their opinions to themselves, El did not hold back.

"That mutt is a total bonehead."

I laughed. "Undoubtedly."

.

Because I now knew the chances of Beau returning to the reservation were limited—despite the fact I knew nothing of what had occurred between him and the dog—it was easier to entertain the topic of my compromise as we coasted toward home.

Though many of the details were unclear, one thing was certain: Beau was perfectly capable of removing himself from a situation he deemed unfit or potentially dangerous. This gave me just a little more confidence in letting him make his own decisions.

It was ludicrousy to think I could ever trust the wolves, but with this new revelation firm in my mind, it was becoming quite clear to me that Beau was more sound-minded regarding the whole situation than I'd formerly assumed.

Whether it was the idea that he may never go back, or that I was simply tired of the impassible chasm of our stalemate, my resoluteness against his visits with the wolf was fading.

I was again reminded of what Carine had said earlier, about letting Beau make his own choices. Maybe it was time I let that happen.

Archie was waiting for us in the garage when we arrived, his thoughts uncharacteristically dejected. He didn't see me reprimanding him in the near future, but he was sure some type of consequence would come upon him for his inattention.

"No one's going to take your Porsche away," I assured him as soon as I was out of the car.

He brightened immediately. "Sweet!"

Just then, my eyes drifted to the mud-spattered, glossy red bike parked in the corner. No helmet in sight, and as Archie saw me staring, the memory of Beau's arrival played in his mind. He'd rode into the garage soaked to the bone, hair plastered to his scalp with rainwater. No helmet, no protective gear, shivering half to death…

If it hadn't been in such unfavorable conditions, and he hadn't been so fragile… I might have found the image of him on the motorcycle rather appealing.

 _He's warm and dry in bed,_ Archie assured me now, cutting the memory off abruptly.

I nodded, abruptly anxious to be with him again, and rushed into the house. I climbed the stairs, pausing unexpectedly by Royal and Eleanor's bedroom door as Royal's thoughts filtered through. As always, he was waiting eagerly for Eleanor's return, but at the moment, he was thinking some rather unexpected things over.

 _I've done everything in my power. If he still goes ahead with his idiotic plan, it's beyond me. If he's miserable for the rest of eternity, well, no one can say I didn't give him fair warning…_ _He could have a normal life, a family, but he's too stubborn to see that he's gonna regret that if he goes ahead with this…_

I wasn't surprised by his internal grumbling. Royal had not hidden his stance, nor his displeasure, since the vote regarding Beau's immortality had taken place. What _did_ surprise me was that he'd divulged so much of his personal insecurities with Beau. I saw in his flickering memories that he'd told Beau the entire story of his human life and change. He'd spared no details, and for a moment, I felt a frisson of anger go through me. Who was my brother to traumatize Beau with the horrid details, which could so easily have been eliminated?

Of course, the current thoughts in Royal's mind had been a fear of my own. I'd always concerned myself over not being enough, _human_ enough, to provide Beau with the life he may want one day. Until he'd made his transition so inarguable, I'd feared he would see my inability to bear his children as a major pitfall. In fact, I'd once considered it a possible discerning factor.

However, I tried not to concern myself with these thoughts any longer.

 _He's made it clear what he wants,_ I reminded myself.

I left Royal to his perturbed muttering and climbed the stairs to the third level. It was dark in my bedroom, but it posed no obstacle for my supernatural eyesight. I found Beau's form easily amongst the duvet, sheets and pillows, in the bed across the room.

For a moment, I stood in the doorway, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. When I could not stand the separation any longer, I crossed the room and climbed in next to him, careful not to displace the mattress.

But as if he sensed my silent presence, he stretched and rolled toward me, and I saw his eyes open.

"I'm sorry," I whispered softly in the darkness, not wanting to startle him. I didn't think his frail human eyes would be able to detect my shape in the inky blackness. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

He didn't say anything. Instead, he pushed the thick duvet aside and reached blindly for me, nestling me into his side. I was surprised, when instead of his fury, I felt his lips, soft and warm, on my throat.

He had to have been half-asleep still; and I waited for the onslaught.

Still, he littered my neck and the edge of my jaw with sweet kisses, and then his lips found my own. A shiver of pleasure went through me as our reunion was sweetened with his tender affection—never before had the phrase ' _Coming Home_ ' felt so appropriate.

I giggled softly and put a sliver of space between us. "And here I was, ready to face the court martial… I doubt this kind of reception will instill any type of future restraint."

Beau chuckled lowly in the dark, quiet room, his voice still husky from disuse. "Yeah, yeah," he murmured, "I'm building up to that."

And then his lips were searching again, more hungrily now, for mine. When they locked, the warmth and bliss that flooded me was incomparable. I was entirely satisfied, lying here in his arms, in the bed I'd purchased for him, against his soft, sturdy chest.

Finding myself entirely too caught up in the moment—encouraged by the relief that he wasn't angry with me, and maybe too much self-castigation in the face of my recent revelations—I locked my lips more firmly against his, and pressed myself against him. I combed my fingers through his hair, feeling his own arms encircle me, one of his hands clutching the base of my neck to hold me close.

I realized I wasn't the only one becoming far too distracted. Beau's breaths came quicker, his lips parting against mine. His sweet breath drifted across my face, and his arms tightened around me.

I gave him room to breathe, trailing my lips across his cheekbone, and down his jawline, to the carotid artery in his throat, feeling it pulse against my lips.

"Welcome home," he whispered, and the words felt so fitting, so _right_ , I didn't think it was possible for me to feel anymore content in this moment.

I pulled his lips back to mine, and all my formerly well-thought-out restraint seemed to vanish. Suddenly, there was too much space between us, and I wiggled myself against him so that our bodies were flush, basking in the sweet warmth of his kisses and his loving, convivial embrace. His lips shaped themselves around mine, and he combed his fingers through my hair.

Softly, I traced the shape of his face with my sensitive fingertips, and then, as if those same hands belonged to some else entirely—someone without a modicum of self-control—they drifted down his neck and across his broad shoulders, contouring the shape of his back and trapezius muscles.

Beau's breaths grew more irregular, more ragged, and his heart was pounding double-time. Then I hooked my leg over his hip, and his breath caught.

Something more instinctual, more animal than human, was surfacing inside me as I clung to his shoulders, moving my mouth fervently against his. As I carefully rolled him onto his back and settled my weight across his hips, I felt my control slipping away—but in that moment, I couldn't bring myself to care.

Beau's warm hands settled against my thighs, pulling me impossibly closer, and I acquiesced to his requests, craving the feeling of his heart pounding against my front, reveling in the passionate exuberance of his mouth under mine.

My hair fell around us in curtains, creating our very own bubble of isolation. In these moments, it was just us present—no one else. As unaware as I was of my family's presence, I _was_ keenly aware of how much pressure I exerted against his body, knowing I could bruise him very easily. My hands, too, on his chest—I was careful not to press too hard, only too cognizant of how easy it would be to crush his ribs.

Overcome with the desire for _more_ , I found the idea of tasting him rather pleasurable. While the urge should have rang all kinds of warning bells in the back of my head, instead I found myself parting my lips against his own, and then gently tracing their shape with the tip of my tongue.

The flavor his skin was… _Indescribable_ , and I wanted _more_.

I was surprised when the unrelenting waves of desire seemed to only grow stronger, no matter how far we'd already taken things. I wanted _all_ of him, but I didn't know how far-reaching my discipline went, and I didn't think it wise to test it.

Remorseful and embarrassed, I forced the succubus inside to tame herself, and rolled away from him, back onto my side. Beau rolled with me, one of his hands still clinging to my denim clad hip. His eyes were filled with frenzied passion, his panting breaths ragged and irregular.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as I waited for him to catch his breath, "I took that too far."

Beau only shook his head, not quite able to speak yet, I didn't think. In the next instant, the disappointment was clear in his eyes.

"I won't do it again," I promised.

" _I_ don't mind if you do," he finally breathed.

I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling my lips curve up. "I didn't think you would. Regardless, I apologize for giving you the wrong impression. It was careless of me—not to mention dangerous."

"I like danger."

"I know." Abruptly, my mood sobered, and I was reminded of his naivety when it came to the wolves, and his insane trip back to the Cullen house, _on_ a motorcycle, _without_ protective gear, _in_ the rain. As if reading the thoughts on my face, Beau looked chastened.

There was a beat of silence, and then he said, "So… There's something I need to apologize for."

His face was so guilty, his voice so mortified, that I had to laugh. Tenderness inflated my heart at his admission. I appreciated his unwillingness to keep secrets, and was surprised by this sudden turn of events. He'd been so _angry_ in his voicemail. I'd come home expecting nothing short of a tirade, but here he was, red-faced and penitent.

I kissed the corner of his mouth, and then the tip of his nose.

"Does it have anything to do with you ditching school on the back of a werewolf's motorcycle?" I teased, glancing up at him through my lashes.

"Uh…"

"And spending multiple hours in La Push, after which you rode your own motorcycle back here in the mud and rain?"

"I guess you heard," he muttered.

I laughed again, and framed his face between my hands. I leaned in to brush my lips softly against his own, and then pulled away before his heady scent could overwhelm me again.

"I don't get it," he admitted, "Aren't you mad at me?"

I sighed, supposing I deserved his wary suspicion. I'd really been nothing but a dictator all this time, and the guilt weighed heavily on my chest.

"I had some opportunity to think while I was away…" I began, unable to look him in the eyes, despite the fact that I knew he probably couldn't see me clearly in the darkness. "I decided… It was time I changed my perspective on a few things. I realized that my keeping you from you friend was more about my own feelings of selfishness than anything else, and hindering your freedom wasn't fair to you. You asked me if I trusted you, and I do, so it only stands to reason that I would trust your judgment. If you say it's safe… Then I'll believe you." I glanced up at him, finding him watching me as I toyed with the beads on the edge of one of the throw pillows, and wondered if his eyes had adjusted already.

"I'm afraid you'll only cause yourself harm trying to maneuver around all the obstacles I set up, and that wouldn't be worth it," I continued when he didn't say anything.

I slid closer to him, resting my forehead against his. "And most importantly, I don't want this causing any discord between us."

 _Please say you don't think it's safe and that you're never going back…_

He reached up to touch my face, my lips. "Thank you," he said simply.

"Of course, Beau."

For a long while, we were quiet, and I listened to his even, steady breaths passing in and out of his lungs. It was clear, as he stroked my hair that he was happy, and I tried to convince myself that this was all that mattered.

But the critical anxiety was crushing, and after two minutes of speechlessness, I just _had_ to ask.

"By the way…" I tried to speak as casually as I could, "Do you have any plans to return to the reservation anytime soon?"

I felt it when he stiffened against me, his heart speeding up. Abruptly, I felt horrible. Whatever Julie had done had caused more damage than I'd formerly realized.

I lifted my head from the pillow next to his and searched his eyes. "Beau?"

He looked absolutely heartbroken, and if it could have, my heart would have lurched. I lifted a hand to stroke his troubled face, attempting to smooth out the stressed little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Now _he_ was the one fascinated by the beadwork of the throw pillow between us. He picked at the tiny decorative pieces as he said, very quietly, "I don't think I'll be going back…"

The curiosity was tormenting me, but honestly, I was just so thrilled by the idea that he would never return to that place, that I didn't feel the need to push for details. But as the initial burst of joy faded, I saw that he was truly troubled, and concern rose in its place.

I didn't push him, not wanting to force him to say the words. But after a moment, he took a breath.

"I don't think Jules wants to see me again…" I doubted _that_ very much. "We kind of… Had a pretty big fight. She didn't realize… I didn't think it would come as a shock to her."

He hesitated, and I felt my brow crinkle.

"I just don't think she knew that it was going to be so soon…"

Understanding dawned. "Ah," I murmured quietly. It made sense that Julie would be upset about Beau's coming change. From the way he viewed our species, she would see it as a death sentence even more than I did. At least _I_ got to spend forever with him…

I saw the misery in Beau's expression, and I wondered what she'd said to hurt him so much…

"She said she'd rather see me dead." He tried to compose the words in a matter-of-fact tone, but his voice cracked on the last word, belying his true misery.

My former joy over the fact that whatever had happened between them had driven a rift in their friendship abruptly vanished. Now, I could only hate her for the cruel, unwarranted words she'd said. I would have liked to tear her into shreds with my teeth for the grief she'd caused him, for being so insanely selfish, so infantile.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled his head into the crook of my neck, stroking his hair softly. "Oh, Beau," I whispered, wishing I could make the emotional anguish dissipate. "I'm so sorry."

"I thought you might be kind of happy." I heard the ruefulness in his voice.

I shook my head and pressed my cheek into the top of his fragrant hair. Then I kissed his forehead. "I could never be happy over something that hurt you."

This seemed to satisfy him, as I felt the tension drain from his muscles. I frowned a little to myself. Could he have believed me so selfish to think I would find actual _pleasure_ in his agony? That my hate for the dog was greater than my love for _him_?

Of course, I'd be all too happy to rid her of us entirely—then he would never have to wonder again…

"Something wrong?" Beau's question interrupted my darkening thoughts, and I started.

"No."

Beau leaned up on an elbow and peered into my face. "Then why'd you get all tense all of a sudden?"

I touched the edge of his face, his right eye camouflaged pale silver in the light of the moon, which had managed to break free of the thick clouds. "It might upset you."

He simply shrugged. And waited.

I deliberated, wondering how he would react. Finally, I sighed. It was obvious he was not going to let this go. "Well, it's just… I'd like to tear her to shreds for hurting you that way."

Surprising me, again, Beau chuckled. He didn't say anymore, settling back into the pillows and pulling me close again.

So much time passed, and his breath grew so measured, I wondered if he'd fallen asleep.

Then he said, "Hey, so I was talking to Royal tonight," like it was the most casual thing ever…

I tensed. I didn't know if I was particularly up for this discussion. While a part of me hoped Royal had gotten through to him, another part of me was equally terrified of this possibility. If Royal had forced him to see other possibilities, possibilities he maybe hadn't yet considered, it could change the entire course of our future. What if he'd decided there were certain things he _couldn't_ give up? What would that mean for the sake of our relationship? A family was something I would never be able to give him, and while I had never held my infertility against myself in the past, it had recently become a point of great angst for me.

I took a breath, bracing myself against whatever he was about to say. "Yes, he was thinking about that when I came in. It's a lot to think about it, isn't it?"

"Well…" he began, almost hesitantly, and I felt my free fingers curl in on themselves, balling in a tight, tense fist. "He told me a little… about the time your family spent in Denali."

Baffled, I felt my expression go blank. I tried to sift through what I'd heard in Royal's thoughts when I'd arrived home, but whatever he'd said about the Denali coven, he hadn't been thinking about it.

"Yes?" I prompted.

Beau shrugged, one of his shoulders underneath me. I couldn't see the expression on his face, because my head was resting on his chest now, but I could guess he was trying to seem nonchalant. However, his heart began to beat just a little bit faster, and the temperature of his skin—mostly in the facial region—heated a couple degrees.

"I dunno," he said, and his voice squeaked, "He just mentioned these pretty cool vamp guys… And that one of them was making the moves on you."

I laughed, unexpectedly embarrassed. I was reminded of one of the downsides to immortality that no one liked to think about—that you _literally_ could never live down embarrassing moments. Not that _I'd_ been the one to humiliate myself, but the situation with Tanvir's clan was not something I liked to be reminded of.

Suddenly, it was like I was there again, trapped in a room with them, bombarded by their… _Interested_ thoughts… As hard as I tried, I could not block out the memories, and if I could have, my face would have been aflame with blood flush. Ivan and Kerill had always been more discreet with their thoughts, but Tanvir had never been one for subtlety. When they'd discovered I could hear them, Tanvir's brothers were mortified. Tanvir's mental observations, however, had never changed.

I realized that Beau's heart was still pounding, and as he toyed with the edge of my shirt collar, his face was as flushed as it had been a moment ago. His eyes skirted the edge of the mattress, his face slightly pinched in what I could only perceive as an uncomfortable… Even _jealous_ affect…

 _Oh, Beau…_

"You're not jealous, are you?" My voice sounded stunned.

" _No_ ," Beau grumbled, but he still wouldn't look at me. "I was just… Y'know, curious…"

He _was_ jealous! Well, this was new… And adorable.

I hooked my fingers under his jaw and pulled his face up so I could look into his eyes.

"You want to know something?"

"What?"

"There never has been, and never will be, anyone for me but you." It was clear he wasn't convinced, and I laid my lips against the edge of his jaw, trailing a line of kisses to his chin, and then up over the straight edge of his nose, kissing each eyelid in turn until, finally, touching my lips gently to his. "I'm yours. Completely and undeniably."

"I know," he said, and I grinned at him before snuggling close into his warm embrace once more.

"Sleep, Beau," I whispered, "Sleep peacefully, knowing you are the only one for me. There is no competition. There never has been." I trailed a finger down his arm, and then twined my fingers with his.

Whether he believed me or not, my words seemed to placate him, and he relaxed back into the pillows. I began to hum his lullaby, and soon, he closed his eyes.

Beau faded quickly back into slumber, and the next few hours passed in quiet contentment. I would spend forever, laying here in his arms, if he would let me. The only thing that would make it better, would be if I could call him my husband…

I sighed softly, wistfully.

As the dawn broke, Beau began to mumble quietly in his sleep.

"Mine," he breathed.

I grinned. "Always," I whispered to him, "I am only yours."

.

 **A/N:** Beau wouldn't argue over something so silly as a bed Edythe had gone to the trouble to buy. I remember Stephenie saying something about how Beau doesn't have nearly as much a chip on his shoulder as Bella always did. So I figured he wouldn't think the bed situation worth an argument… Plus—beds aren't only good for sleeping, y'know, and I'm sure Beau knows that ;)

Did you enjoy the little bit between Edythe and her sisters near the beginning, with the whole bed thing? I thought this chapter might need some tension relief. Edythe, what did you THINK their reaction was going to be, silly girl? *rolls eyes*

I would love to know what you thought of this one! Until next time!

xo.


	7. Intruder

**A/N:** I'm back again :) I'm glad you all liked the last chapter so much!

I know many of you are disappointed about Beau's recent behavior. He has a lot of unresolved emotions to work through about Julie and such, but the eventual ending will be the same, even if it does play out a little differently. But that's still a long ways off ;)

.

Archie drove Beau home the next morning, as we were still keeping up appearances.

I spent the next while haranguing Royal for humiliating me last night, and avoiding Eleanor's teasing about the night previous.

"Jess said things felt pretty… _Charged_ last night," she said, winking, as she flicked through the television channels. While she waited for her new TV to come in from Korea, I'd purchased her the biggest one I could find in Seattle—feeling bad for taking my rage out on it weeks ago.

Entirely _not_ in the mood for her jabbing, I grabbed my keys and headed out the door. I'd be a little early, but no matter.

I zipped down the interstate, watching my speed only a touch, to ensure Beau had a few minutes alone with Charlie before I made my appearance.

But when I pulled up in front of the house, I could hear the TV blaring from inside, and deduced my reasonable speed had been for naught. Apparently, father-son bonding time had not taken place as I'd expected. That, or it had happened over a much shorter time period.

I imagined the conversation had gone a little something like this:

 _"Hey kid, how was it?"_

 _"Good."_

 _"What'd ya get up to?"_

 _"Stuff."_

 _"Cool. Talk to ya later."_

I dropped my keys into my purse and popped the door open. As soon as the door's seal was broken, however, an unfamiliar scent entered my nostrils. It was distinctly vampire—distinctly _female_ vampire—and I did not recognize it.

In a fraction of a second, I was at the door, knocking with as much civility as I could muster. Of course, I knew both Beau and Charlie were safe inside—I could hear their voices and their heartbeats. But my anxiety did not decrease with this realization.

Until I knew _exactly_ what was going on, I would not rest.

How had Archie _missed_ this?

"Door," Charlie called as Beau trotted down the hall, toward the front entryway. When he pulled the door open, the scent intensified. It wasn't fresh, but it definitely wasn't ages old either.

"Hey," he started to say, grinning widely, "Come—" He abruptly cut himself off, the smile vanishing when he saw the expression on my face. "What's wrong?"

"Give me two seconds," I requested, not wanting to panic him until I had a better idea of who this intruder was, and how she had slipped past Archie's notice..! "Stay here, please."

I zipped into the house, following the scent up to the second level, where it was strongest in Beau's room.

My first irrational thought was that Victor had somehow managed subterfuge. But then I reminded myself that this scent was entirely unfamiliar to me, and that I would have known Victor's scent, disguised or not, anywhere.

My second guess was that Sulpicia had sent one of her guards to check up on Beau. This was the most likely alternative, as the scent was maybe six hours old, putting the intruder in Beau's room at around four in the morning, while Charlie had still been asleep. A vampire any less disciplined than one of the guard would not have left Charlie alive.

This option, too, did not seem very likely, as Archie had been keeping a careful watch on Sulpicia's decisions, and as far as he was aware, she had made no plans to visit anytime soon. In the Volturi's warped, stretched sense of time, the few weeks since our 'visit' was barely the blink of an eye. To them, a _year_ was barely the blink of an eye.

I made a quick circuit of the rest of the house, just to be sure, and then returned to Beau's side. I hated to see the anxious expression on his face, knowing what his knee-jerk reaction would undoubtedly be, but I had promised I would tell him everything from now on.

I gripped his wrist and pulled him into the kitchen, all of my senses in overdrive as we strode quickly down the hall. Though the immediate threat had passed, I wasn't willing to take any chances.

Thankfully, Beau had started a load of wash, and the noise of its agitator would drown out my words. Charlie wouldn't hear us, here in the back of the kitchen. I stretched up on my toes till my lips were touching his ear.

"Someone's been here," I breathed, and he shivered.

"Who?" he rasped, his voice hoarse and blank with horror.

"One of our kind."

His eyes went wide, frenzied, and as I stared up at him, his face lost several shades of color. "Victor?" he barely mouthed.

I shook my head. "I would have recognized his scent."

"One of the Volturi, then," he said, and it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"I think it must have been," I murmured, and gave him the reasons I'd come up with while I'd been upstairs. However, I still wasn't a hundred percent sure, which was why I wanted to talk to Archie—that, and give him a piece of my mind. How could he _miss_ this?!

I watched Beau's face carefully, the frenetic flame of panic flickering in his eyes. He pressed a fist to his mouth, as if he were suddenly about to be sick. I laid a cool, comforting hand on the back of his neck.

I wished there were some way to alleviate his desperate panic, cursing myself for the way I'd, once again, brought unmentionable horror into his life. I could shield him from the physical ramifications, but I was helpless to stop the emotional and mental burden.

"It's awfully quiet in here. What are you two whispering about?" Charlie's voice abruptly pulled me from my guilty thoughts, as he rounded the corner into the kitchen with an empty popcorn bowl in his hands.

Beau's stricken gaze shifted back and forth between me and his father, his eyes wide with horror. I knew that look. It was perfectly acceptable to assume he was terrified for his father's life, and I rubbed my hand soothingly down the center of his back.

Charlie misread Beau's expression.

"Are you two fighting?" He tried to hide his pleasure, but didn't do a very thorough job of it. "Well, I'll get out of your hair then." He slipped back into the living room, abandoning the bowl in the sink.

Beau stared after him, stock still with dread.

"Let's go," I murmured, feeling the abrupt, chaotic need to get him out of here. This place where I'd once thought him safe from any sort of harm, no longer felt like a sanctuary to me. "Now." I tugged on his hand, towing him toward the front door.

"Charlie," he hissed in a strangled whisper, "We can't just leave him alone!"

I hesitated for just a moment. I knew Beau's father was in no danger—if the intruder had wanted him dead, he would have ended Charlie's life hours ago. But I was confident Beau would not be so soothed by such a concept. I pulled my phone from my pocket, and dialed Eleanor's number quickly.

I'd obviously been given no warning to this morning's occurrences, but I hoped that, by now, Archie would have seen something and would have notified the rest of our family. But when Eleanor's very casual, 'Hey, what's up?' sounded on the other end of the line, I knew he was still blind.

 _What the hell was going on here?_

"Eleanor," I said, and then sped through the rest of the words so as not to bring more unnecessary horror upon Beau. "Archie missed something, and I don't know how, but he did. A vampire was here—in Beau's room. I think it was one of the Volturi, checking up on him, and I need to get him out of the house, and come by there to talk to Archie. But he's worried for Charlie's safety. Will you and Jess do a quick check of the woods and then come keep an eye on him while we're away?"

"Sure thing. Is he okay?" I appreciated the abrupt concern for Beau in her voice. She truly saw him as a little brother already, sisterly instincts firmly rooted, despite how Royal felt about the whole thing.

"He's a little shaken up, but he'll be fine," I assured her. "Hopefully Archie has a good explanation for all of this," I added in a grumble, and then ended the call.

I turned to Beau. "Eleanor and Jessamine are going to sweep the woods, and then hang out here to keep an eye on Charlie. Let's go."

This time, he did not resist me as I dragged him toward the door. Charlie paid us no mind, thinking we were going somewhere more private to continue our argument.

Beau sat rigid in his seat as I zipped down the rain-slicked street, and headed out of town. His eyes did not move from the dash in front of him, both of his fists gripped tight on top of his denim-clad thighs.

Finally, he whispered, "Where are we going?"

"I need to speak with Archie."

"You think he might have seen something?"

"I don't know." I stared out the windshield through narrowed eyes. It was difficult to admit to myself just how upset I truly was with my brother. We'd all bestowed our greatest confidence in his abilities, and he'd almost been cocky about it—believing he would miss nothing, believing his power was somehow invincible. This was the worst way to prove that it was _not_.

If Beau had been sleeping in his bed this morning, while I'd been gone…

I felt my hands convulse around the steering wheel.

We coasted down the dirt driveway too fast, and I cranked the car to a stop in front of the porch steps. In another minute, we were bursting through the door.

Of course, my family was waiting for us just inside the house. All of their thoughts were bleak, even chastised, and fraught with tension. Eleanor and Jessamine were already gone, of course, but obviously El had filled everyone in before they'd left.

Before we were through the door, I was turning my glare on Archie. When I saw his face, the furious simmer burst into an all out inferno.

" _What. Happened?_ " I demanded of him, feeling my hands curl into fists at my sides.

 _Please, Edythe, he already feels bad enough. Don't be angry with him._

But all rational thought had fled in the face of my terror and anxiety.

Archie, rigid with stress, stood with his arms folded by the stairs. He stared evenly at me, having seen _this_ coming. Oh, sure, he'd seen my anger in response to the _very possible death of the only boy I'd ever loved!_ But he'd missed the _threat_?!

"I have no clue," he said calmly, "I didn't see anything."

" _How_? How could you miss something so _vital_?"

"Edythe," Carine said lowly, using her physical voice to intervene now, "Please. You know it's not an exact science—"

I ignored her. "She was in his _room_ , Archie! Did you _see_ that? She could have still been there— _waiting_ for him!"

Archie shook his head. "I would have seen that."

" _Oh, would you have_?" I snarled, my tone rife with mockery.

Archie had his back up now, and his next words were cool, almost aloof. "Look—you've already got me watching Sulpicia's decisions, watching for Victor's return, not to mention every minute of Beau's every day. What else do you want me to add to that list? Charlie? Beau's room? Or maybe I should just had the whole freaking street, while I'm at it." He shook his head, agitated. "If I put too much on my plate, Edythe, you know things are going to start slipping through."

"Too _late_."

"If he was ever in any danger, I would have seen that. And if it was Sulpicia, I would have seen that, too, so I don't think it was the Volturi."

"Who else would leave Charlie alive?" I snarled.

Beside me, a shudder quaked through Beau's shoulders, and I slipped my fingers through his.

Archie flipped through a catalogue of images in his mind, searching for anything that might give him a clue. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

"Thanks so much," I said scathingly.

I felt Beau squeeze my hand. "Edythe," he said softly, reprimanding.

I turned my gaze on him, and half a second later, the guilt hit me—taking the wind out of my sails. Though Beau had been the one in danger the entire time, he hadn't blamed Archie for it in the least. He wouldn't put _anyone_ at fault, no matter the situation.

I exhaled. "I'm sorry," I breathed, "You're right." I turned to Archie. "Please forgive me, Archie. My temper was ill-placed—that was uncouth."

"It's fine," he assured me, at once magnanimous. _I promise I'll keep a closer eye on things now, until we know exactly what's up,_ he added silently—so as not to terrorize Beau further.

I nodded, and took another breath to steady my emotions, reminding myself that the more I overreacted about this, the more I would be likely to worry Beau. "Okay," I said, sighing, "let's look at this objectively… Does anyone have any ideas?"

 _Another tracker stumbled across Kid's scent,_ Royal posited, _Nice. Can't go ten minutes without getting himself in some sort of trouble…_ He turned toward the window, his back to us, worrying about Eleanor. He hated that she was constantly sent on my, as he called it, 'errands'. He didn't like her being thrust into such risky situations. Eleanor, on the other hand, didn't mind in the least. But that didn't matter to Royal.

 _Maybe an unfamiliar coven came through town—came across his scent, decided to check it out?_ Archie thought as he slumped against the back of the couch.

 _Maybe whoever it was, was simply curious… Any typical nomad may feel threatened by the size of our family, and may have wondered why a human had frequented our home so much…_ _Our scent was sure to be everywhere in his room…_ Earnest was in the armchair by the loveseat, elbows to his knees.

I led Beau to the couch and pulled him down to sit beside me, keeping my hand linked with his as I sifted through my family's thoughts, looking for something I hadn't already come up with on my own.

"Victor?" Carine suggested softly.

I shook my head. "The scent was distinctly female, and distinctly unfamiliar."

"Someone from the Volturi?" she continued to postulate. In her mind's eye, distant memories of Italy began to surface, and she sifted through them, searching for anything that may aid us now.

"I thought of that," I murmured, nodding, "It could have been someone I've never met… Someone new?"

But Archie was already disagreeing, shaking his head. "It's not likely. Sulpicia hasn't decided to send anyone yet. I'm waiting for that."

A possibility suddenly occurred to me, and I felt my head snap up. "Maybe someone other than Sulpicia sent her."

" _Why_?" Archie said, "There's no reason to send someone so soon. Sulpicia gave him until after graduation…"

I felt myself tense. "It could have been someone with darker intentions—Jonathan, for instance. I know he certainly possessed the motivation…"

"But that wouldn't make sense… Whoever it was obviously had no objective to hurt Beau or his father… And if she'd stayed to wait on Beau's return, Archie would have undoubtedly seen… So what would have been the point?" Carine wondered.

"To check that I'm still human?" Beau suggested, and his voice sounded so remarkably even and calm, it shocked me.

Carine nodded thoughtfully. "That's conceivable," she conceded.

Royal huffed, perturbed.

 _God, let's just get this over with already. All this trouble, again and again, for a stupid human… If he's made his choice—let's just go ahead with it already. What's everybody's deal? I'm sure Archie, for one, would be glad to have the kid out of his hair… Always having to be on the lookout…_ I'm _exhausted and I'm not even the psychic here…_ He heard Eleanor and Jessamine on the porch steps, and turned expectantly that way.

I frowned at the distraction of his bitter mind as my sisters came through the door.

"She's long gone," Eleanor reported, discouraged. "The trail was at least six hours old. We followed it East, then South, and then it disappeared on a side road. Little meddler must've had a car waiting."

I frowned, thinking it bad luck that the intruder hadn't gone West, where the wolves assuredly would have torn her limb from limb.

"Neither of us recognized the scent," Jessamine said to Carine, and then held out a fern frond she'd collected that had held a more solid concentration of the fragrance, "But perhaps you would…"

Carine held the frond to her face, sniffing at the greenery. "No," she said, "Unfamiliar to me, as well. I've never met them."

Earnest suggested his earlier thought, and Carine was filled with tenderness for his loving, optimistic nature.

"Maybe this isn't the enemy," he theorized, "Maybe it was simply a curious patron, happening to visit Beau's house at random. She would obviously smell us on his things, and might wonder how we're connected to him?"

"Why wouldn't she just come to us, then?" Eleanor wondered, "If it was simple curiosity?"

" _You_ would," Earnest said, smirking at his daughter, who had never been known to hold back for the sake of someone else. "Not everyone has such an unfiltered view on life. Our coven is irregularly large—the visitor might have felt threatened. Let it ease our concerns, knowing Charlie was not harmed. Perhaps we're putting this person in the wrong light…" _Please, Edythe—try to relax… Strangers are not always the enemy._

Carine sat beside her husband, taking his hand. She desperately wanted his theory to be true, always seeing the world as inherently virtuous. She didn't want to believe that any ill intentions were attached to the stranger's visit, and as nice as this turn of events would have been, I wasn't convinced.

It was very unlikely an arbitrary drifter would have left Charlie alive.

"I think the circumstances were just a little _too_ perfect…" Archie began skeptically, "Whoever it was had to know exactly what they were doing—she was careful not to draw any attention from anyone, almost as if she knew someone was watching…"

"She could have other reasons for avoiding contact," Earnest chastised him.

But I was entertaining the possibility—perhaps this individual possessed a distant mind-reading power, or had an aptitude for knowing others' talents.

Only one thing was sure.

"Until we know exactly what we're dealing with, we cannot just assume this was a fluke occurrence. I don't feel comfortable passing this off until Beau is undoubtedly safe."

"I have a suggestion." Everyone turned to look at Beau, and immediate wariness surfaced inside when I saw the familiar decisiveness on his face. He took a breath. "I'm just a liability right now—and not only am I putting myself in more danger, but now Charlie's getting dragged into all of this, too. Maybe we should just do it now, instead of waiting till graduation."

There was no room to doubt what he was proposing, and I was about to argue that he, himself, was causing no trouble at all. It wasn't his fault his intrinsic bad luck drew every type of dangerous supernatural species to his door… Not that it made me feel any better about the situation. In fact, it increased my own nervousness. But as I'd promised both him and myself before, I would _not_ allow fear to be the deciding factor over which his transformation was decided.

"Beau," I told him, shaking my head. "We'll be more vigilant from now on. As always, your safety is our top priority."

 _Some of ours…_

I ignored that.

"Think of Charlie," Carine reminded him gently, "Think of how much it would hurt him if you suddenly disappeared now, just a week before graduation… The timing just isn't ideal."

"If anything happened to Charlie because of me—"

"Nothing will, dude," Archie cut in. He reached up to tap his forehead. "I'm watching."

"Everything's going to be fine," I assured him, stroking his hand.

Beau didn't look entirely convinced, but as his eyes touched on each of our faces, the futility of his fight must have occurred to him—and he stopped arguing then.

He stayed a little longer while we continued to discuss, most of it spoken in volumes too low and dialect too quick for him to overhear.

He spent the ride home sullen and quiet, and I knew he was still frustrated and worried.

"Someone will be keeping an eye out for you and Charlie at all times," I tried to assure him.

His face twisted. "They're gonna hate me by the end of this. I'll be outed by their boredom."

"Beau, they'll hardly be bored. They consider it a privilege to do what they can to help."

"Sure, sure," he muttered.

When we returned to the house, Charlie's partial thoughts were just a tad smug, and buoyant. However, I couldn't see the exact motivation behind it.

We had spent the entirety of the afternoon at my house, and so Beau immediately set to work readying dinner. I was confident in my sisters' tracking abilities, and it wasn't that I didn't trust them; I just wanted to double-check, to be extra sure for _myself_. If anything was constant, it was change—and we'd all learned this afternoon just how quickly things could turn on their backs.

I excused myself brightly, though I didn't think I was quite subtle enough. Beau's expression was suspicious, and I knew he comprehended my intentions.

I darted up the stairs, in the direction of the bathroom. I closed and locked the door, and then went straight to the small window next to the shower. Vaulting myself through the small opening, I did a quick traverse around the property, finding no fresh scents.

Just to be sure, I did a quick check of the nearby woods as well.

When I was sure the area was clear and safe, I returned via use of the window I'd escaped through, unlocked the interior door, and skipped back down the stairs. I was just in time to hear why Charlie had seemed so optimistic when we'd arrived.

"Julie called again," he told Beau as I walked into the kitchen.

"Did she?" he said as he took his own place at the table, in front of his dinner.

"I really think you should give her a call back. She sounded pretty low… You've put the girl through enough trouble, making her wait as it is."

Beau averted his gaze, picking up his fork. "Maybe later," he mumbled.

Charlie grumbled under his breath as he scooped up a bite of food. He was appalled at his son's apparent rudeness to a young girl he'd seen as nothing but kind and thoughtful toward his son. If only he knew what she'd done to bring on such ire in his usually compassionate son…

When 10:30 came around, I said my goodnights to Beau clearly in the entryway, so that Charlie would undoubtedly overhear. I stretched up on my toes to kiss him, then trailed my lips from the corner of his mouth, up to his ear. "I'll see you soon," I assured him in a whisper.

The trip home was short. I quickly changed my clothes, and then stopped on the main level to check in with Archie.

"I haven't seen anything else," he informed me before I could ask.

"And Sulpicia?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

I didn't know, as I set off on foot for Beau's house, whether I was placated or made all the more anxious by way of this information—or, rather, lack thereof.

 _All clear,_ Jessamine thought as I drew nearer to where she was stationed in the woods. _I don't like this at all,_ she added when I was at her side. Rather than referring to the security detail—which she didn't mind at all—being without lack of intel made her feel nervous and bereft. With her army background, she didn't like being in a deficit when it came to knowledge about the enemy.

"I don't blame you," I murmured. I squeezed her hand and thanked her before I zipped across the lawn and climbed through Beau's window. He was lying in his bed, watching me, his face fixed in a mask of discomforting anxiety.

Though he made a valiant effort to hide the terror, it wasn't lost on me.

When I sat on the edge of the mattress and stroked his forehead, it took him only minutes to fall asleep. But it took many more minutes of unawareness for the tension in his forehead to finally relax.

I curled onto my side next to him and stroked his face, his hands, as he slept. Thankfully, no nightmares seemed to surface in his unconsciousness. He uttered nothing but soft, easy breaths and occasional murmured declarations of his love to me.

.

Over breakfast the next morning, Beau informed me that he was going to give Julie Black a call.

Though the brevity of his grudge-holding surprised me, I did my very best to don a placid, pleased smile.

 _Keep out of this,_ I chastised myself, _It's not your business, and you have no place making his choices for him._

"I think that's a good choice. You were never very good at hurting people for their own good."

"Uh… Is that an insult or a compliment?"

I leaned forward to stroke his eyebrow, and then down his cheek, till my finger settled in the curve of his cupid's bow. "Definitely a compliment," I murmured.

He appeared satisfied with my lack of disdain, and when he had finished eating, he crossed directly to the phone. The way he dialed the Blacks' number was as if it had been etched in his mind. I couldn't explain why I felt a quiver of bitterness go through me at this.

I listened stoically as Julie rambled incessantly about how sorry she was.

I was proud of myself when I didn't flinch at her suggestion to host a visit. However, when her unfortunate cliff-jumping joke sounded through the phone, I felt my muscles tense, and my lips pull away from my teeth.

Beau snorted. "Now _there's_ a brilliant idea," he quipped.

"We won't go in the middle of a storm," she promised, "And I'll be right there to jump in and save you if you decide to drown yourself again."

A low snarl vibrated in the back of my throat, but by the time Beau glanced warily at me, I'd managed to compose my expression once more.

"Actually, now's not the best time, Jules…"

Immediately, Julie's tone turned frantic with concern. I couldn't begrudge her for that. "What is it?" she demanded, "What's going on?"

"Uh…" Beau hesitated, glancing at me again. His expression was undeniably apprehensive, and it was clear he didn't know what to say. Or maybe he didn't _want_ to say the words. In any case, I had wanted to have a word with Julie some time or another… I held my hand out for the phone.

"Beau?" Julie said when he didn't continue.

"Uh, yeah, I'm here," he stammered, and I gestured again for the receiver. "It's just—can, uh… Edythe wants to talk to you. Mind if I put her on?"

Julie was quiet for a moment, seeming to deliberate. "Okay," she finally said hesitantly, "This should be interesting."

Beau passed the phone to me, his expression wary. I felt his eyes on my face, suspicious, as I put the phone to my ear and greeted the wolf girl, putting on my sweetest smile and best behavior.

"Hello, Julie."

"Hey, Black Widow," Julie's tone was suddenly wry, "To what do I owe this displeasure?"

I ignored her jibe. "Someone was here yesterday morning—one of our kind. It wasn't a scent any of us were familiar with, and I was just wondering if your pack has come across anything new?"

"Nope. No bloodsuckers on our turf. They know better than to try something so stupid." She paused. "So is that why you've been keeping him prisoner in your little dungeon? Y'know, that move is pretty below the belt, even for a leech. Why don't you let him make his own choices about who he sees and who he doesn't? He'd be perfectly safe down here. We could probably protect him better than you can."

"We've discussed that—"

"What's there to discuss?"

"—and under normal circumstances, I'd be perfectly fine with that. But until I've enumerated this present danger, I mean to keep him as close as possible. It's nothing against you—"

"He's not your _property_ ," she spat, and then took a breath. "All I'm saying, is that he's comfortable here. Before you got back, he'd been coming here for months. You might not like it, but you _know_ he'd be safe here, no matter what you believe about us."

"You might be right—"

"Come to think of it, why are you sitting there talking to me, and not out trying to find the monster right now? I wouldn't sleep until I'd found that leech and ripped his head off." She paused for barely a moment. "Hey—what about this? Maybe I could talk to Sam, see if she'd agree to some kind of temporary truce. That way we can expand the borders a bit just in case we catch the scent and he's running East. She might be willing to give you guys the same pass, just until this all blows over. It's worth a shot, and it's kinda stupid to lose the trail because of some stupid boundary line…"

"Yes, that's an excellent point. We're more than willing to renegotiate, if Samantha is amenable."

"I'll see what I can do," she replied, thoughtful now. "Even Sam'll see that keeping that leech away from Beau is more important than some stupid ancient treaty."

"Thank you," I told her.

"So—what's the plan then?" she inquired suddenly. "Y'know, when you guys go out tracking the thing, who's gonna stay with Beau? You gonna have enough bodyguards left over?"

"I'd planned to go alone, actually," I admitted. I'd been entertaining the idea of taking a longer tracking expedition, but entertaining the idea of taking Jess and El along with me didn't sit well. I'd rather have their skills in a place where they were actually needed. I could handle a single neophyte on my own; Beau would need all the protection he could get. "And leave Beau with the others."

Julie snorted. "Why do _that_? He'd be perfectly safe here. Nothing's getting through us." Again, that same haughtiness showed through her tone—she was confident: maybe _too_ confident. But I couldn't deny that the idea didn't appeal to me. To have my entire family at our disposal may cut down on the tracking time, and as begrudging as it was to admit it: I knew the pack _had_ saved him multiple times, when I had not been here to do it myself.

It very nearly made me sick to think I would ever willingly put Beau in the protection of the wolves, but they'd proven their tracking and hunting abilities a few times over. From the way their encounter had gone with my family, I knew if they stumbled across another threat to Beau again, they would not hesitate to take him down this time.

"I'll attempt to consider that in an impartial light… As impartial as I'm able to."

"Cool." She seemed easily placated by this, likely assuming she'd already won the battle. "So, want me to come over there—get a whiff of this trespasser for future reference? The thing'll be easier to track down if we know exactly what we're looking for. I can be there in ten minutes." I could hear her scuffling around in the backdrop.

I remembered the brief glimpse of the pack mind dynamic I'd witnessed in the woods behind Beau's house. I could see how their link might come in handy.

"Brilliant," I murmured, more to myself than to her. "I would appreciate that," I added more directly.

"I'll be there in a heartbeat—oops, I forgot. You don't have one." She snickered to herself. "Think you can bring yourself to tear yourself away from him for a few minutes?" Her tone was mockingly concerned, but I ignored her childish ways.

"Of course. I'd like a chance to become more acquainted with the scent trail anyway."

"You'll be gone by the time I get there." It wasn't a request, and I tried not to get my back up about her tyrannical ways. "Can I talk to Beau again?"

"Certainly." I turned toward him and offered the phone. "Beau?"

His expression was still cautious as he took the phone back and put it to his ear. "Jules?"

"I think we just made a truce," she reported jovially. Her demeanor had taken an abrupt turn in the time it had taken to speak to Beau again. "Hey, do something for me? Convince your little Black Widow that the best place for you while she's gone, is down here on the rez?"

Beau's eyes flickered to my face, and then quickly away. Julie was still blabbering.

"Come to think of it, we should get Charlie down here, too—as much as possible. He'll be safe here, too. Even if he has no clue what's going on." She giggled, a surprisingly girlish sound.

"That's not a bad idea," Beau conceded. "Get Bonnie on it, and I'll do what I can to help."

I wasn't the only one who could detect the uneasiness in his tone. "Don't sweat it, Beau. We're gonna rearrange some of the boundary lines, so we can make sure the thing doesn't get away from us this time. We'll see if Sam goes for it, but I'll watch out for you until she realizes it's foolproof." I could almost hear her wink.

"Watch out for me?" Beau repeated, frowning.

"Meaning, if you see a wolf running around your house, don't run for Charlie's gun or anything."

She obviously meant this as a joke, but Beau frowned.

"Also—don't let _her_ push you around. Come down and visit more often. You're perfectly safe down here, and she knows that, so don't let her tell you otherwise."

Beau sighed disapprovingly.

"Okay, I'm out," she said then, "I'll see you in a few."

"You're coming over?" He blinked, surprised, but I couldn't miss the excitement in his voice, thinly veiled by the shock.

"Yep. I figured it might be a good idea to get a whiff of that leech in case it comes back for another round."

"Uh, okay," Beau said uncertainly. Obviously, he was worried, and I felt the corners of my lips pull up. It was so _Beau_ being concerned for the wrong people, worrying over all the wrong things.

As if Julie was thinking the exact same thing, she chuckled softly. "See you soon, Beau."

The line clicked off, and Beau hung up. The v-shaped crease was present between his eyebrows again as he slumped back in his chair, and I reached forward to smooth the imperfection from his skin.

"Don't worry about us," I murmured, "We're perfectly able to handle these things. Don't go concerning yourself about perfectly impractical things." I ran my fingers through his hair, and then traced the edge of his face with a finger. I found myself marveling over this beautifully pure human boy, so simple in his human ways, and yet… And yet, somehow, he had the superseding power to ally two enemy species. He possessed the influence to put to rest a century-long rivalry, no matter how temporary its hold may be.

As I had speculated over before, there was something undeniably transcendental in the human boy I loved.

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 **A/N:** And another one done! I've been working on BD rough drafts lately, and I'm telling you—you have more sisterly fun to look forward to, for sure. For all of you wondering how everything's going to play out, I'm going to try and parallel the original as much as possible—except for, y'know, the pregnancy and everything… But the underlying themes will be much the same. Because of the gender-swap, there will be a couple timeline changes and such, but nothing that will affect the overall story too much.

Sorry for the "shorter" one this time, ladies and gents! Let me know what you thought of it if you have time :) xo


	8. Truce

**A/N:** Surprise! Two chapters in one day! I got you—didn't I? ;) These two (Intruder and Truce) just flowed together so nicely, but I didn't want to shuffle them into one chapter. It just would have been too long, and my overall table of contents layout would have been off, and… Yeah. So instead of a lopsided really long chapter, you get TWO today. I know, I'm the best :P

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Knowing Beau was more or less safe with the wolf girl, I didn't hesitate to take off into the trees. The space of time I had on my hands now provided me with the ability to scan the forest more thoroughly, and to follow the trail as far as Eleanor and Jessamine had gone.

Nothing new was revealed except that whoever had made their renegade escape had awful taste in cars—the getaway vehicle had been a Ford Taurus in dire need of an oil change. When the point of her getaway provided me with no new clues, I went as far as west as I felt comfortable.

Though Julie had said she would speak with Samantha about expanding the boundary lines, I wasn't sure if the topic had come up yet in their pack mind. Staying cautious, I stayed well back from the imposed border.

I could detect nothing but the typical scents of wildlife and vegetation, as well as the overwhelming stench of wet werewolf. The cloy clung to my nostrils, and once I was sure the female had not come west, I retreated from the infringing Quileute territory as quickly as I could.

It had taken me half an hour to gather all the information I could for now, and while that was enough time apart for me, I knew Julie might not think so. Anxious, I headed back in the direction of Beau's house, unsurprised when I found that she was still there.

I wondered how long she was planning on staying.

I lingered outside, not wanting to intrude, but also aching to be back at Beau's side again. Just for something to do, I checked their mailbox, and was pleasantly surprised by the thick, legal-sized envelope I found there.

Sure enough, the return address was to Dartmouth. I tucked what I was sure was an acceptance letter—I'd received mine this morning, addressed just the same way—and the rest of the mail into the outside pocket of my purse.

Inside, Julie was saying an abrupt goodbye—cutting their conversation short. Over what, I hadn't heard.

"You're leaving?"

"She's waiting outside. I can hear her… and smell her," she added, her tone heavy with disdain.

I heard Beau sigh exasperatedly. "Stop that. Neither of you smell bad to me."

Julie laughed. "Well, out of the three of us, I'd say you have the _worst_ sense of smell—so your judgment doesn't count."

I heard her receding footsteps as she headed for the back door, knowing I was waiting out front, and then she paused.

Her mental turned abruptly patronizing. _I know how hard it is for you to be away from him for even thirty minutes… But he'd be just fine with us and you know that._

"Hey," she said, turning back to him, "By the way, we're doing a big bonfire thing tonight—it's kind a tradition, but it'd be really cool if you could make it. Wanna come?"

I could hear the hesitance in Beau's pause, and I waited, not breathing. Who was I to deny his choices about the matter, after all? It didn't matter how much I didn't _like_ it—it wasn't my right to tell him no. It never had been.

"I dunno, Jules," he finally said, "Things are kinda tense right now, and…"

"C'mon!" she goaded him, "Nobody's gonna get past all—all six of us…" She stuttered over the end of her sentence, knowing I was listening, and not quite feeling right about revealing their numbers to me, in spite of the truce we'd just made. I rolled my eyes at her immaturity.

"I'll ask," he relented uncertainly, and I felt a twinge of guilt at that. Was he really so convinced of how I would react? I realized I really had not given him much leeway with his friendships in the past little while, and I felt horrible for it.

"What—you have to ask her for permission?" Julie's tone was patronizing, and blatantly disapproving.

" _No_ —we just… Like to discuss things, is all…"

"I could kidnap you again," she suggested brightly, and I growled quietly. She laughed, having overheard my sound of displeasure. "Or you could just stand your ground… Not take 'no' for an answer. If you don't start putting your foot down, she'll keep you on her leash forever, y'know."

Beau huffed, and I could almost see him rolling his eyes. "Okay, okay—that's enough."

She laughed again. "See ya later, Beau," she said as she finally ducked out of the kitchen. _I know you're listening… Please—just don't give him any trouble about this, could you?_

I was surprised by the sincerity in her parting thoughts, and waited till I heard the back door click shut before I went inside. But as soon as I opened the door, a vaguely familiar scent blew into my face, turning my stomach.

 _Ugh._ Werewolf blood.

Walking into the kitchen, I spied the source of the revolting smell—a bloody boning knife—on the counter by the sink.

"Is everything alright?" I inquired.

From where he was glaring out the window over the sink, he turned his head to look at me, and suddenly he was beaming. For a moment, I was stunned by the beatific smile that lit up his entire place. "Hey, you're back!" he exalted, and held his arms out.

I went to him obligingly, winding my own arms around his waist and pressing my face into his t-shirt. I inhaled his succulent scent greedily, basking in the warmth of his touch. For a moment, I forgot all about my bemused concerns, happy to be in his arms—happy to know, that no matter how much Julie Black's presence pleased him, his exuberance regarding my return had not waned.

"If you're trying to distract me, it's working," I murmured against his clavicle.

"Oh—uh, yeah, everything's good. Why?"

"I was just wondering why there seems to be evidence of an attempted murder—or maybe wolf suicide—on the counter."

His gaze flickered to the knife by the sink, and he jumped toward it. "Shoot! I forgot about that."

I watched as he yanked the bottle of bleach from underneath the sink, and doused the knife with the solution. As he scrubbed, he explained, "I think she just forgot she was holding a knife in her hand."

I felt my brow crease, and I questioned Julie Black's intelligence. "Forgot she was holding a knife?" I repeated dubiously.

Beau shrugged, still scrubbing. "Guess so."

It didn't seem he was willing to divulge anymore context than that, so I let it slide. As he rinsed the now-clean knife under running water, I pulled the small stack of mail from my purse and tossed it on the table.

"I got your mail."

"Oh, thanks. Anything good?"

I eyed the thick Dartmouth envelope. " _I_ think so." I wondered if he would feel anywhere close to the same way, and doubted it. Beau set the knife in the draining board and glanced at me suspiciously over his shoulder.

He crossed the room so slowly, it was as if he were crossing a minefield. I ignored his wariness, grasping vainly at the hope that if he just held the envelope in his hand, if he saw the physical proof of his acceptance, that it might instill just the smallest spark of enthusiasm.

As he took the package from my hand and unfolded it, his eyes narrowed.

" _Dartmouth_?" he blurted, looking up at me, "Are you serious?" Unfortunately, the emotion in his tone was anything _but_ excitement.

"I'm sure it's an acceptance," I said, hoping that the reminder that I would be at his side would be enough to bring some reasonable perspective, "It looks exactly like mine."

Beau groaned and, much to my displeasure, turned to toss the unopened envelope on the countertop. Then he turned back to me, folding his arms over his chest.

"Murder or blackmail?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm only asking because I can't see any other way you would have gotten me in… So which one was it?"

"I simply submitted your application," I promised him. There was no need to mention the hefty donated _Carine_ had made. That had nothing to do with me.

Beau shook his head, his eyebrows knotting together in that familiar way. It was clear he was floundering for an argument. "You know I can't afford the tuition," he finally said, and then lifted his gaze to glare accusingly at me. "And you're not paying for me. I'm not just gonna let you throw away enough money to buy a _house_ so I can pretend to go to Dartmouth next year."

"Why pretend?" I smiled angelically at him, unable to quash the images rising unbidden in my mind. The charming three-bedroom Colonial Archie and Jessamine had traveled to Hanover to purchase for me almost a month ago came to mind. I would gladly take a few years to attend University if I could be at Beau's side. And what was more, it would be an entirely new experience for me this time—somewhat of a rarity these days. Instead of simply filling my spacious mind with courses to assuage my boredom, there would be purpose in my attendance this time.

I tried not to let my imagination get away from me, but before I knew it, I was imagining it: Sitting in the quad while we studied, reading in the library, attending classes and lectures… All of it with Beau at my side—and, if Lady Luck were with me, rings on our fingers…

"One year of college might be good for you," I murmured, stepping forward to wind my arms around his neck. "You might even find you enjoy it. Please—don't dismiss it just yet," I pleaded, seeing the reluctance in his eyes. "Think how excited your mother and father would be."

So quickly, I might have thought I'd imagined it if my mind were capable of missing anything, a flicker of emotion passed through his eyes, lighting them up from the inside. Elation, consideration, excitement… Wonder?

Then he seemed to contraindicate himself, shaking his head vigorously. "Better not push it. Sulpicia gave me 'till graduation."

Emotion choked me—and I cursed the severe misfortune that seemed to rule his life so completely. Before he'd even had a chance to entertain the idea of happiness, his fear quashed it.

I pulled myself tighter to his chest, and combed my fingertips through the hair at the base of his neck. "Let _me_ worry about Sulpicia. You have all the time in the world to decide when you're ready to take that step."

As hard as I tried to tame the whirling hope inside my chest, it would not recede… Could this be it? Could he possibly be considering holding off on his change, even for a year? It was so much more than I'd hoped for…

And then he shook his head. "Alaska is good enough an alibi as any," he insisted stubbornly. "It's far enough that Charlie won't expect a visit until Christmas, at least, and I'm sure we'll come up with some excuse by then anyway." He gave me a half-smirk. "You know," he added, his tone light, teasing, "this whole secrecy and deception thing is kind of a pain in the neck."

He was attempting to make a joke, make light of the entire concept, but he had no idea how accurate his words had been. I was reminded again of all the genuine relationships he had _now_ , and how none of it would be the same in the future… How could he know how difficult our lives could be, how much of a risk it posed to form any type of bond with a human? Our first priority always had to be discrepancy, and Beau had no way of knowing just how much he would be forced to sacrifice for that.

"It gets easier. After a few decades, everyone you know is dead." My words escaped with the acid my own bitterness, and I immediately regretted them.

Beau flinched, and he was suddenly very interested in the envelope on the counter.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, "That was insensitive."

He only shrugged noncommittally, refusing to take his eyes off the envelope.

Though it was inexcusable of me to take advantage of his vulnerability, I found myself saying the words anyway: "If I find a way to elucidate whatever it is we're dealing with, will you _please_ consider postponing?"

Stubbornly, he shook his head. "I don't think it's a good idea."

I sighed in exasperation. So stubborn.

At that moment, the washing machine in the closet began to clunk noisily, interrupting our embrace. I tried not to feel disappointed when he pulled away from me and crossed the room toward it.

"Hey—this reminds me," he said as he rearranged the towel inside the washer and then started it again, "Do you know if Archie washed some of my stuff when he cleaned my room? A bunch of my stuff is missing."

Archie, doing laundry? Archie, _cleaning_? "Archie cleaned your room?"

He turned back toward me and shrugged. "I guess. When he came to pack some stuff for my overnight, I think he must have picked up a bunch of stuff that was lying around."

Alarm bells were going off in my head, alluding to something the rest of me hadn't put together yet. "What kind of stuff?"

"I dunno. A sweatshirt, a t-shirt, some dirty socks… My pillow… A whole bunch of clothes from the hamper…"

It took two seconds more for the comprehension to make itself clear, and I felt my body freeze underneath the sudden stress.

 _Idiot_. I was an idiot for not having realized sooner…!

"When did you notice your things were missing?" I demanded, forcing my voice to remain calm. I asked the question, despite the fact I was confident I already knew the answer.

"Yesterday morning when I got home."

I felt my lips pulling back over my teeth, and couldn't stop the quiet hiss that slipped through my teeth. The items that were stolen—they'd been things he'd worn, touched, slept on… The items would have been completely saturated in his scent…

"Edythe?" he muttered, surprised at the low, sharp sound that had issued from between my teeth.

I tried to keep my voice composed, but I could hear the ominous, furious undertone in the words. And if I could hear it, I imagined Beau would be able to detect it too. "I don't think Archie took anything, Beau."

"Then… Who…? Oh!"

Understanding sparked in his eyes, and then his irises darkened with fear. The rioting fury, swarming like a hive of bees in my chest and throat, was almost overwhelming. I took a step away from him and folded my arms over my chest to contain myself, afraid I would hurt him. The violation… The inexcusable precedent this nomad had set…!

"I think your visitor was gathering traces… evidence…"

"But… Why? Why would she do that?" Beau wanted to know, and his voice quaked with trepidation.

Overwhelmed with compassion, I wrapped my arms around him once more and held him close. I wasn't sure if I extended the gesture as a means to soothe him, or myself. "To prove she'd found you?" I guessed. "I really don't know," I admitted, and laid my head on his shoulder. "But I _promise_ you, Beau, I _will_ find out."

I felt his hand come up to cup the back of my head, and stroke my hair. His warm, soft lips touched my hair. "I know you will."

I closed my eyes, feeling the frantic thrum of his heart reverberate against me, listening to the now-quiet swish of the washing machine. The acrid bite of bleach lingered in the air, not quite marring the remaining notes of wolf blood.

I hoped he felt the fortitude of my vow, in my embrace and in my words. It was clear he had faith in me, and his unwavering faithfulness in me only made me more determined to put all of this behind him, once and for all.

My phone began to buzz in my bag on the table, and I reluctantly disentangled myself from our embrace to answer it. When I glanced at the Caller ID, some of the internal discomfiture eased slightly.

"Perfect timing," I murmured to myself, and then answered the phone. "Carine, I—"

"Edythe," she interrupted, "Have you had the chance to read today's headlines? I'm afraid the situation in Seattle is getting out of hand. The death toll has reached inexplicable proportions—and whoever it is has slackened on their efforts to stay inconspicuous. It's almost as if they are heedless of the consequences now…"

"I'll look at it," I said without fully registering her words. My mind was on different matters.

"Jessamine isn't comfortable with sitting back for much longer…"

"I agree—something needs to be done soon… But that's not our only problem," I pushed on. "I'm not quite sure what to make of it yet, but it's just occurred to Beau and I that whoever was in his room yesterday morning didn't leave empty-handed."

"She took something of his?"

"A few things," I clarified, "Things with his scent on them. His pillow… Some dirty clothes… I think maybe to serve as evidence that she did what was asked of her—proof to bring back to whoever sent her."

"It's possible," Carine debated, and then sighed. "Archie remains resolute that it was not Sulpicia who sent her, however, and I think we need to trust him on that. He's been keeping a very close eye on her decisions… You don't think the intruder would have taken his things as…" She hesitated, and I knew my mother well enough to understand she didn't want to say the words. "As tracking means?" she finally said.

Again, my body tensed with stress. This hadn't occurred to me yet. "Possibly… But if they meant to merely track him as prey, why would they leave his father alive?"

"I don't know, Edythe."

I sighed. "I don't like it, Carine. I don't like it at all. It makes me anxious to know that whoever it was has his things, that they know where he lives, and they may mean him harm… I have no intentions of repeating what happened two springs ago."

"None of us do, dear," she assured me soothingly. "I'm sorry I don't have more quantifiable answers for you. I'll bring it up with the others and see what they may have to say."

"Thank you."

"I know you have much on your mind, but there was something else I wanted to ask you about."

"What is it?"

"Eleanor wants to travel to Seattle in order to assess the chaos; I think she means to find a pattern to the chaos in her own way. Perhaps it's time we took some sort of action… If they're as close as Seattle, I don't think any of them wants to risk them coming any closer."

"Maybe I'll go with her," I pondered, but as I glanced at Beau's face, pale and fraught with tension, I couldn't bring myself to imagine being parted from him for even a few hours. "Or maybe not… But don't let Eleanor go on her own," I cautioned her, "You know how she gets. I think it'll be sufficient to have Archie keep an eye on things for now, and we can reconvene later on."

"Alright. I'll do that," she said. "I'll talk to you soon. Try not to worry yourself too much, dear."

We said our goodbyes, and I slid the phone back into its designated pocket in my bag.

"Did Charlie throw today's paper out already?" I asked Beau.

"Um, I'm not sure… Maybe. Why?"

"I just need to check something," I said nonchalantly, already heading toward the back door. I slipped out into the rain, locating the scent of paper easily in the disposal bin by the sidewalk. The paper was right on top, and I quickly retrieved it.

Inside, I unfolded the damp paper on the kitchen table and found the article Carine had been referring to without dithering. The words were impossible to miss.

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 _ **Murder Epidemic Continues—Police Have No New Leads**_

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I read it over quickly, compartmentalizing the important details—the number of deaths had reached the hundred mark, in just over a month. Even a grouping of three nomads—which was large for a reengage group of our kind—could not cause this type of trouble on their own, no matter how little regard they had for human life, or for diffidence. If they had any sense of what measures the Volturi would take to punish them, surely they would exercise more caution… But of course, it was very possible they'd never heard of the guard and their intolerance for insurgence.

Their techniques of disposal were crass and piecemeal, many of the bodies crushed, mutilated, and shredded beyond compare. Among the carnage of the bodies were also the random acts of vandalism and property damage—overturned and smashed vehicles, broken windows and doors, increased structure fires…

"It's getting worse." Beau's low voice floated over my shoulder as he read along.

"Entirely ungovernable," I agreed, frowning. "If this doesn't die out soon, we'll have to find a way to calm the situation."

Behind me, Beau swallowed loudly, nervously. "Can we do something?"

I shook my head and turned to lay my palm over his beating heart. " _You_ need to keep yourself safe for me… Before _we_ can act, we need to gather more information. Perhaps if we reasoned with them, taught them equanimity, it can be resolved peacefully…" Even as I spoke the words, I didn't see how such a thing would be possible. It was almost unimaginable to conceive reasoning with a group of newborns who'd already proven their disregard for conscientiousness. "We won't intervene unless it becomes absolutely necessary… More than likely, our advice will fall on deaf ears and it will come to a fight anyway…"

I felt Beau stiffen behind me, and realized I was voicing my thoughts out loud. I turned to look at him.

"We're lucky to have Jessamine on our side," I assured him, "She's very well-versed in the world of young vampires, if this is what we're dealing with." I didn't think it was likely it was anything _but_ a ravaged group of abecedarians. "She's sort of an expert."

Beau regarded me with careful fascination. "Expert?"

There was so much I'd learned of Jessamine's past—both from her unspoken thoughts and the stories she'd felt comfortable divulging to us. I tried not to say much about her past if I could help it—I often had trouble deciphering what I'd learned from the spoken stories versus the remembered thoughts, and so I often left it up to my family to decide what they wanted to share of their stories. That, and Jessamine's story was particularly brutal.

I smiled softly at him, and lifted a hand to touch his cheek. "You'll have to ask her about that. It's not my story to tell." Ready to change the subject, I turned around and flicked the newspaper shut. "So—you had something you wanted to discuss with me?"

"I did?"

I couldn't help grinning. Who was I to bring the recollection up if it had already slipped his mind? "Or maybe you don't."

 _Be reasonable,_ I chided myself, _Let him be happy._

"I was expecting some sort of… Discussion… About your spending an evening with the wolves?" I hinted, grinning up at him. I was reluctant to bring the subject to light, but I was not going to let my own feelings get in the way of his own. I didn't want him to feel remorseful about any part of wanting to spend his time with other friends. Now that I knew they would do everything in their power to protect him, I felt just a little more relaxed in the face of Julie's persistence.

"Oh," he said, and then his eyes narrowed. "You were spying on us?"

I giggled. "I only caught the very end of the conversation."

Beau shrugged, picking up the newspaper and tossing it in the recycling bin next to the garbage bin. "Whatever. It's no big deal." His shoulders were tight, his eyes downcast. It was very clear to me that he was giving me far more than I deserved.

I went to his side and took his hand, holding my other palm alongside his face to hold him in place, to better read his eyes. Yes, definitely pushing aside his own feelings. "You don't have to ask my permission," I assured him softly. "If you want to go, _I_ want you to go."

He considered, longing and reservation warring in his eyes.

I extricated my fingers from his and lifted my hand to cradle the other side of his face as well. "Beau. Did we not discuss the fidelity of your judgment? I meant what I said before; I trust you. If you trust the werewolves, then I trust them, too."

He stared down at me for a long moment, as if deciding whether or not to believe my words. Finally he said, hesitantly, "Are you sure?"

"Entirely. As long as you take a cell phone with you so I can reach you."

He shrugged. "That sounds fair."

I smiled. "Wonderful." And then I stretched up on my toes to kiss him lightly. There was no sense in letting it show just how miserable I was about passing him off to the wolf girl. This wasn't about me and my feelings. I had no right to protest against his spending time with her. I reminded myself that it had been _my_ doing that had led to this development of their relationship. If I took me the rest of eternity to make it up to him, I would spend every breath trying to do just that.

I was only beginning to see, now, that letting him go, just a little, was part of it.

.

When Beau called to confirm their plans, Julie was almost giddy with excitement. I listened with as much patience as I could muster while she congratulated him for standing his ground.

When they had ended their call, agreeing to meet at the boundary line at six, he turned to me.

"Hey, do you think we have time to run by your house before we meet up with Jules?"

"Of course. What did you need?"

"I think it's a good time to take the bike back to Julie," he said, which surprised me. "I'm not gonna be using it much anymore anyway, and she worked so hard on it, so she deserves to be the one to sell it or something." He shrugged sadly, and I realized just how dejected he was over this fact.

I couldn't say I understood the thrill of motorcycle riding, but I was suddenly glad I hadn't given the thought of purchasing myself a motorcycle much thought. The day I'd learned of the existence of Beau's motorcycle, I'd purchased him a helmet and riding jacket. At the time, it hadn't seemed likely that he would ever need them, but I was nothing if not overly cautious. The fact that the gear had been waiting at home in my closet, while he'd ridden almost half an hour in hazardous conditions, _without_ protective outfitting had infuriated me.

Of course, he would never be in particular _need_ of the gear if he were riding with me, because I would never let him fall—but again, I was planning for every scenario. Even if I was with him, I'd want him padded and protected.

Sudden inspiration struck as Beau followed in his truck to my house—there was no need to confuse Charlie by leaving Beau's truck at home. In the larger scheme of things, this evasion was negligible.

Archie must have seen my plan, because when we arrived, both riding jacket and helmet were on top of the bike, and he'd hosed it down with the pressure washer. I made a mental note to thank him for that later.

Beau walked over to the bike, and picked the helmet up, turning it over in his hands. "What is this?" he asked, shooting me a sideways glare.

I thought about the two times—that I knew about—that he'd ridden the rickety, pieced-together bike in lieu of helmet and leather, and inwardly cringed. I tried not to remember the number of hospital visits Charlie had listed in his head in conjunction with those bike rides. If he would not ride with me, I at least wanted him to know I endorsed his riding with the woman child— _if_ he promised to wear protective gear.

It quite literally made me panic inside to think about him falling and getting hurt—but at least the chance of ramification would be much lower if he were well covered.

"Please."

"Seriously?" he groaned skeptically, "Do you know how stupid I'll look?"

I grinned, doubting his ability to look stupid in any situation. "The only way you could ever look 'stupid' is if you wound up with your head smeared across the highway like a smashed watermelon." I reached up to run my hands through his thick, lush hair, feeling the very delicate structure of his skull underneath my palm. "Please," I said again.

He didn't look convinced, but he relented anyways. He turned the helmet over again and sighed. "Okay, fine, I'll wear it," he muttered.

My lips stretched into a satisfied smile, and I could feel the dimples in my cheeks, on show. "Thank you. And just one other thing?"

His eyes fell to the leather jacket draped over my arm.

"It's a riding jacket," I explained, holding it up for him to see. "I hear road rash is quite uncomfortable." I flinched as I pictured the horrific way the road would mar his beautiful skin if he were to crash.

He grumbled something indecipherable—it didn't sound like actual words—but reluctantly shoved the helmet down over his head, and reached for the jacket. He slipped his arms in and then zipped it.

The attire was so different from what he usually wore—the typical Northern Washington apparel of flannel button shirts over t-shirts, denim jeans and waterproof boots—and I was shocked by the ripple of desire that tightened the muscles deep in my stomach as I took him in.

Broad shoulders and chest decked in leather, long, denim-clad legs, smooth, glistening helmet and visor…

Hmm…

He folded his arms sulkily across his chest, which only enhanced his attractiveness. "Be honest. I look like a dork."

I took a step back, drinking every inch of him in—and was surprised to realize that I _liked_ the bad boy look… _Really_ liked it… But that was probably only because it was Beau inside.

He watched me consider. "Yep. Total dork material over here."

I shook my head and lifted my hand to push the visor up. "No," I disagreed, shaking my head. "Actually, you look… Hot."

Beau snorted.

" _Very_ hot," I insisted, knowing he didn't believe me.

"Okay, okay, I'll wear the darn things. You don't have to make up far-fetched compliments."

"I'm not making anything up," I contended, wrapping my arms around the thick padding over his waist and tilted my head back, "However—this helmet does have its disadvantages…"

I reached up on tiptoe to tip the helmet off his head, and then crushed my lips to his. For some inexplicable reason, it was more difficult than usual to keep my kiss gentle. Maybe it was because it was a little too easy to imagine Beau beside me—formidable, unbreakable—white as marble, hard as stone, in this tough encasement of leather and fiberglass.

Whatever the reason, the kiss grew frenzied in no time. When the familiar fracture of my thoughts began to took place, I pulled back, grinning.

"So, what do you say?" I said as we caught our breaths, intoxicated by the mingling of his scent with the leather, and the taste of his kiss, "Want to give me a ride down to the border?"

.

The motorcycle went faster than his truck, and I had to give it credit.

My hair fanned out behind us as we flew toward La Push. I was happy to sit behind Beau on the seat, arms around his waist, hands on his chest, face between his shoulder blades. I was happy to inhale the fragrance coming in waves off of him, pushed into my face by the wind. I was happy to feel the shift and turn of his body against my front as he wound down the tree-lined highway.

However, my blissful reveries were interrupted as we gained on the boundary line, and Julie Black's thoughts came into hearing range.

 _I still don't get it… What's so special about a girl-shaped ice sculpture? She's not even that pretty—I mean, I guess she kinda is, but in a really creepy way… Ugh. I can't believe they kiss and all that. It's just disgusting. Black Widow and her ice lips… Oh, great, I think I hear them… Wait… Is that Beau's motorcycle…?_

She came into view around the curb, and I instructed Beau to pull over onto the shoulder. He did, balancing the bike between his feet as he killed the ignition and pulled the helmet off.

 _So, the kids'll probably play for a couple hours—but I'll send him home for his milk and cookies before bed, mmkay?_ she thought sarcastically, shooting me a sardonic look, before she turned her eyes on Beau, and took appreciative inventory of the bike, jacket and helmet, which he now had tucked under his arm.

Her thoughts on the matter were much the same as mine, if not a tad more loquacious. I tried to tune her out as I pulled the extra cell phone out of my pocket and passed it to Beau.

"Call me when you're ready," I said to him, "And I'll come and get you."

"Sure."

I climbed off the bike, surprised that I was sort of sad to do so. It had been a nice ride down.

 _Finally decided to let him run with the big dogs, eh?_ she badgered. _Nice choice of jacket,_ she noted, fully aware I was listening to her lingering thoughts of the way his chest and shoulders looked encased in the leather.

I'd about had enough of her mockery, a different sort of instinct rising up inside me as I prepared to release Beau to her clutches. Her thoughts only grew more vindictive and mocking, even gloating, as she witnessed our goodbyes. He leaned toward me for a quick goodbye kiss, but the sudden urge swept over me with stunning force.

Knowing she was watching, I clutched the collar of his jacket in my fists, and pulled his lips fiercely to mine. Beau's arm clamped around my waist, the other fisting in my loose, windblown hair.

 _Ugh… Nasty! Sick, repulsive…. Blech…. How can he stand it…?!_

The disgust was very apparent in Julie Black's mind, even as she averted her eyes and tried in vain to quash her discomfort. Not only was she disgusted, but I was _very_ pleased when I heard the familiar, acidic trickle of jealousy make its way into her thought processes before she could completely shut them down.

I giggled quietly as I reluctantly disentangled myself from our passionate embrace, trailing my lips down the edge of his delicious jaw and throat. Just before I pulled entirely away, I let my eyes flicker over his shoulder, locking on the wolf girl's black, malicious stare.

 _He's mine_ , I thought, and then released him, smiling up into his face as I smoothed my hands down his chest. Underneath my hands, his heart was pumping frantically, his breathing still a little ragged.

"I really _do_ like the jacket," I murmured, and then stepped back so he could wheel the bike across the boundary line.

As he turned his back to me, a brief but overwhelming wave of panic crashed over my head. For a moment, the urge to reach out and catch the back of his jacket was an overpowering force, as I realized I was sending the human boy I loved into the den of the wolves, helpless to follow.

 _Trust him,_ I reprimanded myself, _You have to trust him._

My efforts at soothing myself were cut short when Julie's taunting thoughts rang out once more, loud and clear.

 _Oh… Here he comes, just a few steps more and then you won't be able to come and get him… Five more steps… Three more…_

I bared my teeth at her, aware that Beau wouldn't see, but Julie only grinned.

"What's that?" she called out, nodding at the bike.

"Just thought I should put this back where it belongs," Beau said.

She debated that, wondering if he was shoving it back in her face, or if this meant he'd be willing to go riding with her again. She couldn't help the enthusiastic list of places she'd like to take him from flowing through her mind.

She watched his every step, and the moment his toes crossed the invisible line, she exalted.

 _Ha! He's allll mine!_ Knowing she'd gotten her way now, she pushed off her junky car to lope to Beau's side. She wasted no time whatsoever putting on her own show of physical affection as she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly.

 _Mmm. He smells so good!_

Unable to take anymore—watching the exchange was like a twisting dagger between my ribs—I turned and headed for the trees.

"Cut it out, Jules!" Beau complained.

She laughed gamely, over the moon with joy now that she had him entirely to herself for a few hours. She refused to dwell on the brevity of their time, looking forward to the plans they had in store for the evening.

"Why don't you just pull your eyelid down and stick your tongue out next time…?" Beau was chastising her as I took off at a run through the trees. His voice and her thoughts quickly faded out of hearing range, and I did my best to put it out of my thoughts.

But how could I feel entirely okay with this, putting my mate in the hands of a species I'd only ever known to despise? I tried to remind myself that he was safe with Julie, that she was capable of controlling herself. Still, it didn't mean I had to like it.

.

 **A/N:** So, as you'll notice, I changed a couple things in this chapter—the most noticeable one being that Edythe rode down to the border with Beau on his motorcycle. Because, why not? I thought that was a fun change, and just another example of her trying to relax some more of the control. :)


	9. Contemplations

**A/N:** Major thanks to Visser2315 for helping me flesh out _Frankenstein_ a little bit—a book I've never read, but wanted to follow some of its themes as she has done in her own Eclipse Reimagined. You've been a great sounding board, and are such a sweetheart! (Also, major thanks to sparknotes for filling in the rest xD)

Enjoy this one, my lovely readers! This one left room for a little freestyle.

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The only thing harder than watching Beau's back as he'd walked toward Julie and the reservation was turning my own back and leaving him there. I ran more slowly than usual through the trees, hesitant to leave him behind, despite the fact I knew they'd already gone farther than I could follow.

If I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket and called him, would he return to me at once? Of course, if I explained my discomfort over the present situation, surely he would be his usual understanding, gracious self, and he would come back to me. Surely.

And though I was _not_ comfortable with the particular inevitabilities of this evening, I did not turn back, nor did I pull the cell phone from my pocket. This was his night to be happy, his night to taste a bit of the freedom I was forcing myself to give him—freedom that he completely and entirely deserved. Despite the particular crowd of company that was his choosing, I reminded myself that bonfires with friends on the Pacific cliff-sides were an important rite of human experience.

It may not have been ranked in the top five of the human experiences I wanted Beau to have before his change, but it was a human experience all the same; and what was more, it was a human experience he himself had chosen to partake in.

So I could not bring myself to disapprove, and I returned to my home with haste, hoping to find something to distract myself with while I waited for Beau to be ready to come back to me.

The house was quiet when I arrived. Earnest had taken the nightshift to watch over Charlie and the house, Carine was still at the hospital, and who knew where my siblings were. It was common for them to run off in the woods, together or apart, attempting to find different ways to pass their otherwise monotonous evenings, whether that was by hunting on nearby quarry or otherwise.

I crossed the great room to the platform where my piano resided, brushing my fingers tenderly up and down the keys. It had, once more, been too long since I'd played, but it couldn't really be helped. There had been far more pressing matters at hand as of late.

The arbitrary notes, sweet and melodious, echoed throughout the empty house. The stillness was unnerving and unfamiliar, and after awhile, I abandoned my attempts and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I didn't bother to shut the door behind me, finding no need for privacy, and revolved to face my collection of music.

When nothing seemed to strike my fancy, I flicked on whatever had been playing the last time I'd been in my room. Debussy's soft, whimsical 'Reverie' seeped from the speakers, and I went to stand by the window, staring down over the Sol Duc River and the forest beyond.

In the night, the navy blue shapes were shrouded in the luminescence of the moon, and yet, I could discern each shape of the surrounding ambiance; every bough of every tree, the stones beneath the rushing water of the stream, the microscopic blades of grass flattened by the rain that carpeted the sloping lawn.

I let my mind wander, hoping my thoughts would be enough to carry me through the passage of time while I waited for my Beau to return.

Contemplation could be a very powerful usage of time in the vampire world, if one were able to exercise the focus needed. It was very easy to find ourselves distracted—not only because each one of our senses were heightened, but because there was so much more room in our immortal minds than there ever had been in our mortal brains.

My eyes drifted to the bed, and I found myself lingering over the concept of distraction, and its implicit dangers. It seemed like so long ago that I'd confided to Beau that I found myself quite preoccupied by him. It remained that way, even now, as we progressed in our relationship.

It seemed so contradictory to experience such potently pleasurable sensations, yet be so afraid of them. It wasn't the intensity of their influence I feared, but the allegation of where things would undoubtedly lead if I allowed said sensations to rule over my thought processes.

Every moment I was with him required my careful and complete control. While some of my ministrations in his presence had become unconscious, unthinking—I remembered the days where I'd been painfully conscious of each brush of my fingertips against his skin, the weight of each caress. Now, it was easier, but only because I'd had plenty of time to practice.

These new sensations were unfamiliar, and entirely unpracticed. In both my human life and several decades of my immortal existence, I had never experienced emotions as strong as these. The strength of jealousy, love, possessiveness and allure were only one half of the equation. The other sensations—which felt more base than anything I'd ever faced, even stronger than thirst in some ways—were more difficult to articulate.

I wanted, very much, to explore this new physical side of our relationship together. I craved the implicit feel of his hands on my skin, his warm, plush mouth on mine, to press myself as close to his warm body as possible.

We'd shared every other part of ourselves—this new step in intimate vulnerability only seemed fitting to be the next step.

But there was another part of me, an essential part I thought I'd left behind so many years ago, that hesitated. Not only because of the implicit risk this could pose to his life, but because there was a part of me that was set on doing things in the right way.

Times had changed over the years—I knew that. And though I didn't know Beau to be a particularly religious person, I thought that the existence of his soul was one thing we could agree upon. Maybe there was a part of me, however small, that believed it for myself as well.

This was one essential part of my humanity that had not been touched—living or undead. Now that I'd found the one I loved, I wanted to share it with him. But I wanted to take the necessary steps to ensure the experience would be regarded as the cherished, precious thing it was. A gift—the single most vulnerable part of oneself, shared with a single other…

There was something beautiful in that idea—that we had been, and always would be, each others' firsts. For everything that mattered. Not only every physical milestone—kiss, embrace—but every emotional and mental vulnerability as well. How many emotions had I yet to feel in the time before I'd known him? How much of the world had I thought I'd known, only to meet Beau and have my every thought, every perception, tilted on its very axis?

I lowered myself onto the mattress, my thoughts taking another path. The twist and turns down the familiar dark roads of doubt and indecision were at once center-stage inside my mind.

To me, it all seemed so very simple. We loved one another more than life itself—it should be reasonable, if not an unspoken agreement, that the next step would be marriage. To commit ourselves to each other, for the rest of eternity… It seemed so very obvious, so very _essential_ , to me… But did Beau feel the same way?

Why was he so much more confident in his eventual immortality, than he was about marrying me? I didn't _want_ to doubt him, I didn't _want_ to question his intentions… But how could I not?

Was immortality not a far greater commitment than matrimony?

And did he not have a skewed vision of what that life would really be for him? How could he possibly know the pain of what he would be putting himself through—what he would have _me_ put him through? There was the obvious fire of his change, but there was more, still. He couldn't possibly comprehend the searing pain of near-constant thirst. He could not possibly comprehend the mind-numbing boredom with which we were forced to pass our time, the inability to sleep, to escape; the inability to form any sort of real relationships outside our familial and marital bonds, and the loneliness this would instill? How could he know the cost that he would be forced to pay, without having the slightest ability to weigh his assets beforehand?

I was certain these variables were far from his mind, especially now, in his decision making processes. He thought only about being safe, no longer being what he thought was a liability to our family. I was confident he only thought about the new strength he would possess, and the impossibility of destruction.

Did it have anything to do with _me_?

I shook my head at myself, as if the deplorable thoughts would be expelled from my mind so easily. Time and time again, Beau had assured me that he loved me, and that he wanted forever _with me_. Still, I wondered if I would ever acquire the ability to completely obliterate the doubt that hovered like a black storm cloud in my mind.

After all, how could an angel _possibly_ desire to spend the rest of eternity with a demonic creature like myself?

.

It was almost midnight when my cell phone rang.

I picked it up before the first ring had reached its completion. "Beau?" His name escaped in a gasp of profound relief.

"Guess again." Julie's voice was cold and mordant, and I felt the familiar panic twist my stomach.

"What happened?" I demanded sharply. "Is he okay?"

"Oh, God," she groaned. I was already in the driver's seat of Beau's truck, twisting the key in the ignition, "Just chill. You must be a _joy_ to have around…" I could almost hear her roll her eyes. "He's fine, by the way."

I exhaled, relieved, as I started down the driveway.

Now she snickered. "Seems Beau found our party a little boring. That's why I'm calling. He's passed out in the seat next to me. I'm driving right now."

 _Oh_. That was very unexpected. She was calling me as… A consolation? That didn't seem likely… I immediately suspected ulterior motives.

"Anyway—we're heading for the border now. Unless you want me to just take him home…" There was a touch of hope in her voice that she was unable to hide.

"That won't be necessary," I assured her as I turned onto La Push Road and parked a dozen yards back from the line. "I'll be waiting."

"Of course you will be," she grumbled, and then ended the call abruptly.

A few moments later, the glow of Julie Black's headlights preceded their advance around the curve in the road. I waited with as much patience as I could muster as Julie woke him.

Beau straightened in the passenger seat, suddenly anxious. "What time is it? Did I fall asleep?" He shifted in his seat, rooting around for something.

"Relax," Julie said softly, her thoughts affectionate and amused as she watched him, groggy and disoriented, search for his cell phone. "It's not even midnight yet, and I called ahead for you." She pointed through the windshield at me.

"Midnight?"

"Here." She grabbed the cell phone off the dashboard and pressed it into his hand.

"Oh, uh thanks." He glanced over at where I waited in the truck, ready to jump out and cross the line if she detained him for much longer. "I'll see you later, alright? And thanks. For having me. That was pretty amazing."

She grinned, her teeth flashing in the darkness. "Thanks for coming. It was…" Her mind flickered through the occurrences of the evening, how close they'd sat together, his smile in the flicker of the bonfire. "It was nice for me. Having you there."

Julie Black was letting her imagination get away from her, thinking of the things she'd missed out on saying, doing, tonight. I glared through the windshield, infuriated by her ludicrous fantasies.

"Come back soon, 'kay?"

"Sure thing." Finally, Beau cracked the door open, and I saw him shiver.

Julie was surprised by how hard it was to watch him leave. She wanted to say something, do something, if it would keep him there just a moment longer. I knew that feeling well, though I did not approve of her considerations.

She reached out to touch his hand, shuddering slightly with pleasure at the jolt that snaked up her arm. "Have a good sleep, Beau. And don't worry about anything—I'll be keeping guard tonight."

He paused, one long leg out of the car, and unconsciously, I strained toward him. "I'll be fine, Jules. You should, y'know, get some rest. Sleeping's important n' all that."

Julie snorted. "Okay, _Dad_ …" she teased. "Nah, it's no biggie. Really."

They exchanged final words of farewell, and then, finally, he was making his way toward me. I could not garner any more patience, and as he made his way up the road, I launched myself from the truck, drawn to him as if by a magnetic pull.

"Beau," I breathed, winding my arms around him and pulling myself into the soft shape of his chest as he dragged his feet across the boundary line. I inhaled the perfume coming off his skin greedily, not realizing until now just how painful it had been to be apart from him. Only in the moments my heart became whole again, did I realize Beau had taken half of it away with him.

"Sorry," he muttered groggily, burying his face in my hair, "I think I dozed off, and—"

I quieted his unneeded apologies with a finger over his warm, silky lips. "Don't concern yourself. Julie called to explain." I dropped my hand to weave my fingers through his and turned back for the truck.

"Did you have a nice time?" I inquired as we walked.

In the darkness, he grinned—and his countenance was brighter than the stars above. "Great, actually. Bonnie really knows how to tell a story… And then to know they were actual legends and not just fairytales—I mean… Wow…" The fascination was apparent in his voice. Though tired, his exuberance was bright. For a singular moment, nothing but his happiness registered in my mind.

"You'll have to tell me all about them." He stumbled, the toes of his sneaker catching on the pavement, and I automatically steadied him. "Once you've had some sleep."

"Sleep sounds good," he muttered, fumbling for the door handle. He came up empty, so I got it for him. Once he'd slumped in his seat, I flitted around to the driver's side and climbed in.

Julie's thoughts were bitter and laced through with unveiled envy as she turned her car around. She hated that I was the one taking him home, that she hadn't had the chance to say the words she thought were necessary. I glared at her as her regretful thoughts faded, and she drove out of sight.

Of course, it took her no time to drop her car and head into the forest. She was already at Beau's house when we pulled into the driveway. She was hidden enough in the foliage that I could not detect her unshorn shape in the darkness, but I could hear her. As always, she was trying, and failing, to hide her lamenting, scornful thoughts.

 _You can go now,_ she snapped as Beau headed up the driveway to the front door, _I've got this_.

But I wasn't about to give her that kind of satisfaction. When Beau went inside, I took a roundabout route around the property until I was at Earnest's side in the trees.

"Hello, dear," he greeted me, pulling me into a hug. "Did Beau have a nice evening?"

"I think he did," I replied. We both stood quietly for a moment, listening to the brief conversation between Beau and his father inside the house. It seemed that Julie had called Charlie ahead of time, as well.

In the woods across the property, Julie was pacing back and forth, uncomfortable with the two of us so near. The rational, human part of her wolf mind reminded her we were working toward a common cause, but her residing, animal instincts made it impossible for her to feel entirely comfortable in our presence—especially when she was outnumbered.

"It's kind of them," Earnest said quietly, hearing Julie in the forest as I did, "To put aside their differences for the sake of Beau's safety. I know it must be difficult for them to do so."

I narrowed my eyes in Julie's direction. "I think 'difficult' may be a bit of an understatement."

"Regardless—it's a kindness."

"Yes," I admitted.

We stood for another moment, and I saw the light in Beau's upstairs bedroom flick on. I took an automatic step forward, the pull to go to him futile to resist against.

"I should be going," Earnest said now, sensing my longing to be with him. "We'll let you know if Archie sees anything new, of course."

"Thank you. For that, and for standing guard this evening. It puts Beau at ease to know his father is protected."

"I know it does. I'm happy to do so. Please tell him that." He kissed me on the head.

Earnest loped off into the trees, and I barely watched him go before I sprinted across the lawn—smirking to myself as Julie watched, aghast—and climbed through Beau's window. He was right there, waiting, leaning out into the icy rain. Or, at least, icy to _him_.

I shut the pane against the cold, and wrapped my arms around him.

"Did you see Jules out there?"

"No—but she's lurking around somewhere in the trees. And Earnest just left for home."

Beau sighed disapprovingly, and turned to flick the lamp on beside his bed. When it came on, I turned out the overhead light and climbed into bed next to him.

"What is it?" I asked, seeing the familiar v-shaped crease of concern between his eyebrows.

He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling. "They shouldn't have to do this. It's freezing out there."

I felt my lips pull up, and rolled onto my side toward him. "It's only cold to _you_ , Beau," I teased. My cool breath washed over the side of his face and neck, and I saw him shiver, goose bumps puckering his delicate skin.

Embarrassed, I pulled the comforter more tightly around his shoulders, and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Get some sleep," I urged him, "You've had a long night."

He didn't fight me—only tucked me close to his side and closed his eyes.

Beau did not sleep restfully this night. He tossed and turned for hours, mumbling incoherently and frenetically. At one point, he began to shiver and—worried the chill of my skin was making him cold—I retreated to the rocking chair in the corner after adding another blanket.

The book he'd been reading sat on the edge of his desk, and though the story of _Frankenstein_ had never particularly interested me, I picked it up. I was always curious to know which stories were currently occupying Beau's mind. It was another way I could see into his thoughts without being able to read them.

He had dog-eared a page more than halfway through, but I started reading from the beginning.

Perhaps I had never read the story before, not because I found I could not relate, but because I was worried I would find commiseration for the monster, as fiendish and disgusting as he was. I felt suddenly cold as I read through the horrible missives from Walton to his sister, and then began the story.

To my horror, I found myself sympathizing for the monster's plight. Though he, himself, had not chosen his life of half-existence, he had done the best he could to find humanity deep within himself. Shamed and rejected by society, he found solace in the only thing he thought might alleviate his loneliness—a mate.

How could he bring himself to ask his creator to do such a thing, I wondered? How could he know the depravity of his own soul, his own ugly monstrosity, and want to subject another to the same fate as his?

In this way, I found myself relating to Doctor Frankenstein—the creator himself. He struggled grievously over the consequences of creating another monster, knowing his knowledge of her origin and eventual demeanor may have been even more ill-assumed than what he'd already anticipated of his original monster. Hadn't he regretted the original creation enough to hesitate over bringing another monster to fruition?

He worried that, once the second creation awoke to find herself capable of reasonable thought, that she would reject the entire premise of what had been set out before her—that she would abhor the new fate she'd been wrought into.

Wasn't it my deepest fear that Beau would despise me for the change he so wanted me to instill in him? Wasn't the terror of his eventual conception of the realities of this non-life one of my largest hesitations over the matter?

Again, the same, dark thoughts from earlier in the evening whirled sickeningly in my mind. He couldn't possibly _know_ what was ahead of him; what kind of monstrosity he may find himself capable of. No matter the benevolence of his efforts, there would always be the bloodlust, the atrocious appetites that lurked underneath the surface, without ceasing.

Could he live with that? Could he live with _me_ for forcing that upon him?

As if suddenly capable of reading my thoughts and being terrified by them, Beau started awake in the quiet darkness of his bedroom. Immediately, I was at his side, discarding the book in favor of him—he seemed distressed.

In the darkness, I could see silver beads of sweat on his brow, and realized he was shaking, just slightly. His hands pushed the covers aside and pulled me down next to him.

"Are you alright?" I whispered in the darkness.

He buried his face in my hair. "Just a nightmare." He exhaled, and the warmth of his slow breath warmed the crown of my head, sending a pleasurable shiver down my spine.

"It might help to talk about it," I whispered.

I felt him shake his head. "I'll probably forget about it by morning anyway."

I felt his arms relax around me, and his breaths began to even again.

"Were you reading?" he mumbled after a long moment.

"Yes," I admitted, smiling a little ruefully, embarrassed. He didn't miss a thing, of course, and I couldn't explain the strange sensation that vibrated uneasily in my abdomen. Like I was a child, and had been caught with my hand in the cookie jar before dinner. "Your _Frankenstein_."

"You told me you didn't like that one." His words came slowly, hazy and a little disjointed.

"I don't." I paused for a moment, listening to his steady breaths. Suddenly, I felt the great need to make him understand. "But I'm beginning to sympathize, I suppose, with both the monster and his creator… I understand how the monster might crave a companion, someone to share his experiences with, though I wouldn't exactly call it a life, despite the horrors he'd be subjecting her to… But I can also commiserate with the doctor. Why shouldn't he fear the possibility of failure? Of further denunciation and devastation? Why shouldn't the monster fear her rejection and refusal? Why shouldn't he fear her desertion?"

I waited for a response, some indication that he'd heard and comprehended my convoluted admissions, but his steady breathing and lenient muscles told me he'd already fallen asleep. I wondered how much of what I'd said had registered in his half-conscious mind.

In the morning, he showed no sign of remembering it or the dream that had woken him. When I enquired about it, he said something vague about being cold and having a sense of foreboding, but that he really didn't remember anything else.

"All the same," I reassured him, rolling until our chests were flushed. "A dream is just a dream."

He looked absolutely delicious this morning, with messy hair and sleep wrinkles in his cheek. His eyes were bright, and when I pressed my mouth to his, unable to resist his siren, his lips were warm and particularly soft.

"Mmm," I hummed against his lips as he raked his fingers through my hair, pushing it out of our faces.

Beneath my breast, his heart began to pound a tympanic rhythm, heat bursting into his lips as the kiss grew rapidly urgent. I again found myself thinking of nothing but Beau, and our closeness.

Tangled as we were in his still-warm sheets, I found it impossible that I craved being even closer to him, still.

Would this craving for _more_ ever cease? Or would it only continue to build upon itself until my self-control plummeted and I lost control?

The fear of that particular unknown had me putting a few inches of distance between us. Beau, gasping for breath, clutched me with eager hands against his body. His pupils were dilated, his eyes electric blue with passion and ill-hidden lust.

I, too, felt the reactions in my own body. The tingling sensation, like an electric blanket laid over the surface of my skin, longed for his closeness once more. The muscles deep in my stomach ached with desire. The luxurious clouds of his scent hung heavily in the air around me, burning my throat, but also clouding my mind with a pleasurable, dreamlike quality.

I smiled down at him, listening to his heartbeat stutter.

"I should go."

"No." He reached for me, arms winding around my waist. "You shouldn't." He leaned up to press his lips underneath my jaw, trailing a series of scorching kisses down the column of my throat.

I closed my eyes, lost in the pleasurable sensation for a moment. My body, betraying me, sunk toward him, suddenly malleable and insubstantial. My fingers found themselves woven in his dark, sweet-smelling hair.

I sighed, long and slow, regrettably. I only wanted to stay here in his bed with him, but I feared the obviousness of our isolation, the knowledge that we had nowhere to be but here.

Quickly, I thought of an excuse, remembering to be gentle as I pushed his shoulders away. "I need to go home and change," I told him. I could hear the reluctance in my own voice, the strange ragged edge to it—not quite shaky, but not steady either.

Beau sighed. "Okay. I'll see you later."

"Soon," I assured him. I leaned in to kiss him swiftly, chastely, on the cheek, and then fled for the window before my rebellious body could pull me back to the bed, and the beautiful boy in it, again.

.

"I think a graduation party is a great idea."

Archie was standing in my bedroom doorway, Monday morning, as I pulled half of my hair away from my face and pinned it to the back of my head.

"Who said anything about a party?" I teased him. Of course, the idea had been making its rounds in my head for the past couple of weeks, but I wasn't aware I'd made an actual _decision_ about it yet.

"Last night," he clarified, taking a seat on the leather sofa, kicking his legs out in front of him and folding his arms behind his head, "was when I saw you make the decision. Something about one more human experience…?"

"Ah." I picked up the slouchy, sage-colored cardigan from where I'd draped it over the arm of my vanity's chair and pulled it over my shoulders.

"I've got some great ideas," he continued, and I saw the flickering images in his mind. Completely over the top to begin with, but the part about everyone jumping out and yelling 'Surprise!' was the part that caught my attention.

"No surprises," I demanded, narrowing my eyes at him. "I think he's had enough of _those_ to last him a lifetime."

Archie rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine… Take _all_ the fun out of it, why don't you?"

"Oh, please. That won't deter you in the slightest." I picked up my bag and the books beside them.

As we made our way down to the Volvo to pick up Beau for school, another thought occurred to me.

"Can you tell me how many people will actually show up?" It hadn't been lost on me that I was the source of many ill-feelings from the students at Forks High. Apparently, their disapproving animosity would not be enough, however, to pass up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see the mysterious Cullen abode. I rolled my eyes. Typical teenagers and their priorities.

Archie smiled down at me, coming back into the present. "I'd say we'll have a guest list of around forty."

I found myself, once again, lost in thought. Though Beau would have the opportunity to celebrate his only _real_ graduation with his classmates, I couldn't help but notice how little time he already spent with them as it was. I couldn't be sure whether it was due to the dangerous influences that were so much a part of his life lately— _more_ than usual—but it seemed he was already pulling himself away from those relationships, putting more distance between himself and his sporadic school friends.

After the afternoon he spent with Allen and Becca writing out her graduation announcements, he'd barely talked to the two, aside from surface-level lunchtime chatter. I couldn't deny I didn't mourn the gradual loss of his friendships—maybe even more than he did. Allen was nothing but kind and generous and selfless, and in an alternate universe, they would have undoubtedly turned out to be the best of friends.

The other group of friends—Jeremy, McKayla, Taylor, and the rest of them—I couldn't care less about. But I was sad to see the few relationships he'd been able to retain steadily losing strength. Renee… Charlie… It would break their hearts to lose him; and I knew better to think that abandoning his family would have no effect on Beau, either.

 _He doesn't know what he's getting himself into… He can't possibly comprehend what he's giving up… He doesn't know the implications his choice will have… Is it forever by my side he craves, or is it simply forever that he wants…?_

The familiar thoughts of doubt and uncertainty were at once blaring inside my mind as I twisted the key in the ignition, and Archie threw himself into the passenger seat.

"Maybe you need a party as much as he does," he observed when he foresaw the question I was about to ask him. "You need to chill."

I shook my head as we flew down the driveway, slicing through the early-morning fog. "I don't suppose you see any chance of him changing his mind?"

"You would know if I had," he said, a little too nonchalantly.

"Right." I threw him a sardonic glance, "Like you've never thought-blocked me before."

"Never," he vowed, smirking. Then he grew serious. "Beau-man is serious about wanting to join our family. He hasn't doubted his decision yet. The only deviation I ever see is who chomps on him." He paused, appraising me with a very sudden, non-Archie, serious expression. "He wants it to be you, Edy."

I sighed, feeling my stone heart plummet into my stomach. "But not enough to marry me." It was impossible to miss the dejection in my tone.

"He'll come around," he tried to assure me. "Sure, I haven't seen wedding bells yet—" This only solidified the hurt. "—but that doesn't mean it's not going to happen… He's just not ready yet. He has a ton on his plate right now, and I think it's understandable why it might not be the first thing on his mind."

I tried to see the logic in his observation and failed. If he was _so sure_ about becoming immortal, why wasn't he as sure about me?

"But hey—I've gotta believe there are times he's considering it. Otherwise, why would I see you changing him, right?"

That was true, and I found it very difficult to quash the hope rising in my chest.

"Besides," he added, knocking my elbow as we turned onto Beau's street. "If I saw him popping the question anytime soon, why would I tell you? It's _supposed_ to be a surprise."

.

 **A/N:** Sorry for the shorter one this time! Let me know, as always, what you thought if you get a second :) xo

P.S. Pretty sure I found a plot hole in Eclipse… Didn't Beau follow Edythe in his truck to her house when they went to get the motorcycle so as not to cause suspicion for Charlie? Why then, would Edythe pick him up in the Volvo if Charlie was under the impression that Beau had driven his truck down to La Push? If I'm wrong, please let me know—but I think I made a minor correction there.

See ya next time!


	10. Insecurities

**A/N:** Hi, my lovelies! This chapter deviates a bit from the original (mainly regarding the conversation between Beau and Edythe about marriage and such). Just an example of how these things change when genders are swapped ^_^ Hope you enjoy this one!

.

The final bell had rung and we were heading out to the parking lot together by the time Archie brought the subject of the party up.

He'd been considering it all day—wondering if it would be best to drop it on Beau between classes or at lunch, but had prophesied this time of day to be the best opportunity. Beau was relaxed, glad to be done with the school day, and as far as Archie could see, would be as receptive as possible to the idea.

"So…" he began, the single word loaded with implication, and Beau immediately turned to glare suspiciously at him over my head. Did he notice his grip tighten on my hand?

"So…?"

"Just— don't be a loser about this, okay?" Archie wheedled. "It'll be fun."

" _Fun_ ," Beau repeated dubiously. "What, exactly, is going to be fun?"

"The graduation party, dude!" Archie jabbed a finger at him when he opened his mouth, undoubtedly to protest. "Don't freak out. It's no huge extravaganza or anything—" That was a bit of a lie. "—and it's for all three of us anyway, so there's no use getting all 'Oh, woe is me, I hate being the center of attention' about it. 'Cause you won't be."

Surprisingly, there were no more objections. Maybe Beau was beginning to see the pointlessness of arguing with my annoying psychic brother.

"Fine," he said, "I'll be there, and I promise to hate every minute."

"That's the spirit!" Archie punched him on the bicep. "By the way, thanks for the gift—I totally dig it."

Beau's face went blank with surprise, and then I saw the panic surface there. "But I… I didn't."

"But you will." Archie winked and shot him the finger-guns.

Beau suddenly appeared troubled, lost in thought, and I shot an accusing glare at Archie.

 _What?! I just wanted him to know I'd_ like _it…_

"Is the force of your annoyance something you've worked to master, or does it just come naturally?"

Archie reached out to poke me in the ribs, but I deftly hopped out of reach before he could touch me.

"Great," Beau was mumbling to himself, "Now I get to stress about this for the next few weeks, too…"

Archie and I exchanged a glance. Did Beau not realize when graduation was? Had time completely slipped away from him?

"Dude," Archie said, throwing Beau a skeptical look, "You know what day it is, right?"

"Sure I do. It's Monday."

"Yeah… Monday, the _fourth_." He gripped his elbow and lurched him to a stop, rotating him ninety degrees until he was facing the bright yellow poster pasted to the Gym door.

Beau read the graduation announcement cursorily. "No way," he finally said, shaking his head slightly, "The fourth of _June_? Seriously?" Fresh panic seemed to well in his eyes, and he fell silent.

My own terror started to take hold. _He's afraid!_ I lamented, _He regrets his choice!_

 _He doesn't regret anything,_ Archie chided me, seeing the meltdown I'd have later at home, after I left Beau and Charlie to eat dinner together. _He lost track of time is all, but he's not changing his mind. This is a_ good _thing. He's realizing just how big a decision it is._

Anxiously, I took Beau's hand again and pulled him toward the parking lot. As we walked toward the car, the obvious terror on his face gave way to a worrying blank stare. He was very quiet as we climbed into the Volvo, and didn't speak an entire word as we exited the parking lot, dropped Archie off at the end of the driveway, and then turned around to head back to Beau's house.

 _Just sit down and talk with him. It's about time you two shared some of your insecurities…_ Archie advised before shutting the door behind him, and turning to lope toward the house.

Eventually, as we made our way back into town, the blank expression on Beau's face once again morphed to confusion and intense concentration. It appeared as if he were focusing on a very difficult Calculus equation.

I had no way of knowing exactly what was going through his mind, and I was sure it would drive me mad.

We sat on the couch in the living room for almost an hour, and Beau hardly changed position the entire time, one hand supporting his chin, fingers splayed over his lips, staring out the rain-streaked window.

I curled up next to him, and _tried_ to be patient. But the crease between his brows furrowed deeper into his delicate skin, the corners of his mouth only drooped more severely, and his eyes, riddled with anxiety, did not relax.

Finally, I could stand it no longer. "Would you please tell me what you're thinking? _Before_ I go mad?"

He didn't speak, his lips pressing together—as if to hold back words he didn't want to say.

"Your lips are white," I observed, stroking the back of his hand, "Please tell me what's going on…"

Finally, he exhaled the breath he'd been holding for almost a minute and shook his head. "It's just… I guess I didn't realize it was so soon."

I waited, a sudden lump rising in my throat.

"Not just graduation or the party, but… Everything else… I just, I mean… What do I tell Charlie… my mom? How do I… What should I… Before we…"

He turned to look at me then, and a jolt of compassion ran through me when I saw the expression on his face. Blatant, unhidden fear wasn't something I was used to witnessing in him, but it was impossible to disregard now. He was _afraid_ —afraid of getting what he'd sworn he'd wanted for so long…

I was appalled by the disorienting conglomeration of relief and sorrow that blew through me. More than anything, I wanted him to know that his hesitation was _okay_ , that _I_ was okay with it. Truly, this was what I'd been fighting for—more time, for him to relax his grasp on this post of salvation he'd so obstinately clung to… But I realized, now, that a part of me—a bigger part than I'd realized—felt… Disappointed. Even that was not enough of a descriptor, but I could not articulate how I felt any other way.

"You're not ready," I whispered.

"I am," he said immediately. The words left his lips so quickly that I knew they were reflex, that he was lying. The quaver in his voice disclosed the truth. After a moment, he swallowed hard and added, "I have to be."

"You don't _have to be_ anything, Beau," I assured him, taking his other hand as well and pivoting on the couch to face him fully. "If you're not ready, you're not ready. It's really quite simple. I won't have you making this choice out of fear. You have to be _sure_. I don't want you to live with any regrets. Everything you haven't done, every experience you haven't had the opportunity to trial… I want you to have those, too. None of us had a choice, none of us had any control over our change, but I _won't_ let it be like that for you. You _will_ have a choice."

But he shook his head, protesting. "Edythe, I'm nothing but a millstone right now, we know that. A target, for Victor, for whoever was in my room… And never mind what Sulpicia said—"

Familiar, fierce vigilance swirled in my chest like a firestorm, and I gripped his shoulders, pulling myself into his lap. I pressed my face into the fragrant skin of his neck. This was his very _life_ we were discussing, his humanity, his soul… If he was having even the inclination of a doubt over this, all bets were off, no questions asked.

"You aren't going through with this because you feel as if a sword is hanging over your head," I argued. "I'm here—I'll always be here, and I won't let anybody hurt you, I promise." I pulled back to look at him, so he could see the sincerity in my eyes. "When all of this is over, when the danger has passed, _then_ you can make your choice. But I won't allow you to feel forced into this, as if there were no other way but this."

I could see he wanted to argue my point, but he didn't say the words. In his eyes, steely determination warred with lucid placations. I cradled his precious face between my hands, and tilted my chin up to press my lips to his forehead.

"There," I crooned, "Nothing to worry about."

Beau snorted quietly, but he didn't say anything.

"Trust me," I pleaded, searching his eyes for the emotions that would betray his true intentions, brushing my fingertips gently, soothingly, across his brow and down his temples.

"I do." The resoluteness was there in his eyes, and I knew he believed I would keep him safe… And yet, his heart continued to hammer in his chest. My entire being ached with the knowledge that, until he was marble and indestructible, my protection could never be a confident assurance for him. Until he was changed, I would never be completely able to vanquish his fears and his qualms. How I _wished_ it were only possible…

After a long moment, something shifted in his eyes—shaky determination, to clear self-doubt. "Can… Can I ask you something?" he asked.

"Of course."

He seemed to hesitate for half a second, parting his lips. "What am I getting Archie for graduation?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the seemingly trivial inquiry. I couldn't explain why I felt a brief moment of hesitation, of distrust. I'd been expecting him to ask a different question, something more serious…

I laughed quietly to myself, realizing that Beau may regard these things with just as much severity. "It looked like a pair of concert tickets."

"Oh, yeah!" This seemed to relieve him, to take an extraordinary weight off his shoulders, and I shook my head to myself, perplexed. "I was thinking he could take Jess with him, or maybe Royal… I hope they're not sold out…" He looked troubled again, and I smiled affectionately, reaching up to touch the corner of his adorably pouting mouth.

"It's the thought that counts—and I'm sure Archie knows that."

He nodded, and his expression was still tense. His eyes dropped away from mine, and my earlier suspicions were confirmed. He _had_ avoided asking me something… Why was he afraid to say the words?

"There's something else you meant to ask," I urged him quietly.

His eyes flickered back to my face and he frowned. "You caught me."

I felt one corner of my lips pull up. "I've become quite acquainted with reading your face. Ask me anything."

He still wasn't looking at me as he paused for another long moment. I examined his profile, listening to the pounding of his heart as he built up the courage to ask me whatever it was he wanted to know. The discomfiture behind my own sternum felt like it would equate to a frantically pounding heart, if it were possible.

The seconds ticked by—each one a minute long, or at least it seemed so.

Finally, he said, "You don't want me to be a vampire, do you?" There was such unfathomable _sadness_ in his voice, that my empty heart ached.

"No," I admitted quietly, "I don't." To want something so reprehensible, even though it seemed our only chance for forever, would undoubtedly make me more of a monster than I already was. I shied away from the part of me that undeniably, unerringly _wanted_ it. The part of me I had strived toward for decades, the part that endeavored to be altruistic and kind and self-effacing… _That_ part of me hated the idea that I could do something so abhorrent as taking away his soul, for _my_ benefit, so _I_ wouldn't have to spend the rest of forever alone.

"That's not a question," I prompted him, stunned.

He took a breath. "Well… I guess I've just been wondering, for awhile now, _why_ you feel that way…?" He sounded hesitant, as if he were afraid of the answer.

I found myself perplexed. _Why_? But hadn't I told him a thousand times? Hadn't I made it apparent, countless times, how precious his heart, his soul, his very soft and gentle nature was to me? Hadn't I made it clear how utterly in love I was with every part that made him human?

"Haven't I made it clear?" I murmured, bringing his hand alongside my face and holding it there. "I love you. Every gentle, perfect part of you… And to sacrifice your humanity, your heartbeat, your soul, just so I don't have to lose you…" I trailed off, shaking my head at myself in disgust. "It's entirely reprehensible. I wish you didn't have to make sacrifices for me, Beau. I would do _anything_ to be human for you. _Anything_."

I didn't know what had brought me to enclose these vulnerable thoughts, and I waited with bated breath. How would he react to my inexcusable selfishness; would he be able to forgive my desire to change him if he knew the only reason I wanted it was because I could not live without him?

I searched his eyes, terrified of what he would say. "That's all?" he clarified finally, his voice thick with skepticism.

"That's all… What else _could_ there be?"

"It's just…" His eyes fell away from mine again as he went on, "I saw the passage you were reading from _Frankenstein_ the other night—about the bride of Frankenstein possibly being repulsed by the monster's ugliness… How he might hate her once she was created, and I just… Y'know, I was just wondering if you don't want me to become a vampire because I'll change—I won't be the same. I won't be warm and soft and I won't smell the same…" His brows knit together. "I just wonder if you'll be totally repulsed by me once I'm different."

I felt my eyes pop wide with surprise, and then the hurt seemed to contract my insides. I was abruptly furious with myself—what had I been doing wrong to give him such an impression? It had never crossed my mind—that my hesitance over changing him had anything to do with not wanting him by my side… That I could _possibly_ , ever, be disgusted by him was a ridiculous notion!

"Beau… No. How could I _ever_ think something like that?"

"Don't worry about offending me or anything," he said, "I just want to know the truth."

"That _is_ the truth," I insisted softly, reaching up to skim my fingertips across his flushed cheekbone. "I want it." The guilt stabbed me through anew as I traced each one of his perfect features. "I want it more than you know. When you're immortal, when I get to keep you here—forever… It'll be my every selfish wish I've ever had, granted. But the price for everything I want will be to take the exact same thing away from you. All of your life… The reason I don't want you to be a vampire isn't because you aren't _special_ enough—it's because you are _too_ special and you deserve so much _more_." I spoke with as much ferocity as I could muster, which wasn't difficult. He _had_ to understand this. It was vital. "I want you to have what we all miss—a human life. But you have to know, if it were only about me, if there were no price for you to pay, then the inevitability of your change would be my greatest dream come true. I've been staring forever in the face for a century, and this is the very first time it's looked beautiful to me. Because of _you_. Don't ever think again that I don't want you," I pleaded. "I will always want you. I don't deserve you, but I will always love you. Are we clear?"

He watched me for a long moment and then, as his lips broke into a wide grin, he clutched my face between his warm, soft hands, and pulled my lips to his. He kissed me with a passion I wasn't used to. It was different from the lust that was constantly plaguing our nights together; this kiss was woven through with relief and total contentment. When he pulled away to catch his breath, I rested my head on his shoulder.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know," I murmured into his shirt. Soon, he would be safe. Soon, I would never have to worry for his safety again. Soon, he would be mine and I would be his, forever. Except… "And now, will you answer a question for me? The whole truth, not sparing my feelings?"

"Sure." He was immediately receptive, oblivious to what was to come.

I plucked at the collar of his shirt, anxious and unsure. I wanted so much to know the answer to this, but I was terrified of the possible rejection. I could only hope that my concerns had been as groundless as his had been, and that this was just as much a matter of miscommunication as his concerns had turned out to be.

I took a breath, bracing myself.

"You don't want me as your wife."

He abruptly stiffened, and I heard his heart rate pick up. "What? Who said _that_?"

"I just couldn't help but notice your odd reluctance… And that you haven't notified anyone of our agreement… And I was just wondering why that was?"

He was quiet for a moment, and then he slid me off his lap and eased himself off the couch until he was sitting on his knees in front of me. With my legs curled underneath me, he took both my hands in his. "If there's one thing I'm sure about, it's you. I love you, and I'm not going anywhere. My… Wariness… Has nothing to do with not wanting to marry you. The only thing I'm worried about is that my mom will, y'know, kill me… Or people will think I got you pregnant or something along those lines… Things are different nowadays. Not a whole lot of people get married at eighteen anymore, and I just… I'm not _that boy_ and…" He huffed. "I just worry about how people are gonna react."

I blinked. Had I missed the part about me being an abominable monster that he wanted nothing to do with? I could hardly fathom the reasons behind his hesitance: that they had nothing to do with me; nothing to do with even _him_. He was worried about what other people would think, something he'd confided many nights ago when he'd first agreed to marry me, and I wondered how the motives had become so complicated in my mind.

"That's it?" I asked, my voice muted and timid.

"Yes," he said.

"It's not that you were… more eager for immortality itself than for just me?"

"Just _you_?" He again gripped my face in his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes. "What kind of question is that? Immortality would mean nothing without you."

I was stunned by his bold and heartfelt deposition, and then, suddenly, the weight of the world seemed to lift from my shoulders, and my head felt light. So relieved I was that I knew no other way to handle the release than to burst into loud peals of laughter.

Beau began to laugh along a little. "What?" he wanted to know.

I sighed. "Oh, I'm just stunned by our foolery. Both of us worrying so needlessly, when all we really needed was an honest conversation, and a little bit of trust… Maybe we should consider pre-martial counseling."

"No!" Beau nearly shouted, and that had me laughing again.

After a moment, he came to sit beside me again and pulled me into his embrace.

"It is a relief though," I murmured, "To understand. And I get it, Beau—really, I do." I propped an elbow on his shoulder so I could lean up to look at him. "But could you try to see it from my perspective?"

In Beau's world, the idea of getting married at eighteen was absurd, even frowned upon. But in mine, it had been only what was to be expected.

I took his words from earlier as I began: "You see, Beau, I was always _that girl_. In my world, I was already a grown woman, a lady. I remember enough of my human life to know I wanted marriage and a family in an eventual, abstract way—dreamed of it and pondered it in my heart. I saw enough of an example in my parents that it seemed like the most ideal thing in life… To have a husband who loved me, and children to dote on… Some of my fondest and clearest memories from my human life are watching my parents dance in the parlor, or the drawer in my mother's desk where she kept the love letters my father had written to her… The only problem is that I can't remember having met someone who captured my heart. If I _had_ …" I paused, considering this. _Someone_ was not a fitting enough prospect. I knew that the only one for me, a hundred years ago and today, always had been and always would be, Beau. "If I had found _you_ ," I corrected myself, "there isn't a doubt in my mind how our courtship would have proceeded… I was _that girl_ , who would have invited you to meet my parents, served you sweet tea on the porch, walked with you arm-in-arm through the park… I would have fallen hopelessly in love with you, staying up late to write love notes by candlelight, dreamed of you often. And once you'd received my father's blessing and asked for my hand in marriage, I know I would have yearned to stay by your side for all of eternity—even when the word didn't have quite the same connotations as it does now."

I grinned widely at him, for a moment picturing it clearly in my mind. The picturesque sunset strolls, the Saturday picnics by the lake, the conversations with my parents and Beau by the fire, late into the evening… The announcement of our wedding, the flowers and my mother's dress, and the idea of my father trusting Beau enough to give me away to him…

"I can see…" Beau murmured finally, folding my hands between his.

"I'm glad." I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder. "It's nice to be aware of both sides."

.

To my surprise, Beau slept dreamlessly and wordlessly that night.

I had expected to hear more of what had occurred in our conversation that afternoon, but it seemed I'd been able to put all his fears to rest, and that brought me peace.

At home, my family was anything but peaceful. I was only there briefly, to change and get my car, but it was clear where each of their minds were. The situation in Seattle had escalated even more, and Jessamine was growing agitated.

 _I don't see how we can hold off much longer,_ she worried as I came down the stairs.

"You coming along today?" I called to Archie, who was at the computer around the corner.

"Nah." There were mere days until finals, and we took this opportunity to skip out on the repetitive nature of classes more often than not. The teachers would be reviewing for exams, and nothing else. Besides, Archie was distracted these days. He tried to uphold his usually optimistic demeanor, but lately more and more of his vision about the situation had been evading him, and it was giving him a bad feeling. He was concerned about it—concerned that things were slipping, concerned that maybe he was losing his touch.

Multiple times I had suggested it may have something to do with someone else's conflicting powers of evasion, or even some sort of shield, though these talents were rare, but Archie was not convinced.

I headed to Beau's house with the Volvo, resigning myself to another monotonous repeat of information. Of course, it may benefit his exam outcomes, so I couldn't be too upset with the inevitability of where my day would lead. I'd get to spend it by his side, at any rate, which was all that really mattered.

I pulled into Chief Swan's spot in the driveway a little early, and I could hear Beau in the kitchen, so I decided to go inside.

I paused to knock on the door, but when he didn't answer, I let myself in.

He was sitting at the small kitchen table, empty bowl of cereal in front of him. His eyes were glassy, focused on the newspaper on the table, and his face was pale. As I watched, his spoon shook subtly in his unsteady hand.

"Beau?" Concern took hold at the anxiety in his expression.

He jumped, his face turning toward me, where I hesitated in the kitchen archway. Instant remorse had me crossing to sit next to him, pulling his free hand into mine.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you. I did knock… Are you alright?"

"Have you seen this?" he asked, gesturing to the paper.

"No," I replied, scanning the headline quickly.

.

 **SEATTLE TERRORIZED BY SLAYINGS**

.

"I haven't seen today's news yet. But I knew it was getting worse. We're going to have to act, and soon."

At this, the concern in his expression only seemed to intensify.

I'd put a lot of hope into thinking the situation would have resolved itself by now. In most cases like these, the newborns grew bored and moved on, causing ruckus somewhere else until the Volturi invariably caught up with them.

"Has Archie seen anything?"

"No—and that _is_ troublesome." I frowned, thinking of the many times various members of my family had resolved to travel to Seattle, to gather whatever intel they could—none of which had registered in Archie's visions. "He hasn't seen anything, despite the fact we've resolved to visit multiple times. He's beginning to fear that he's losing his touch, that his vision may be slipping away."

This seemed to panic Beau. "That can happen?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "It's doubtful. These things tend to intensify over time, not whittle away… Look at Sulpicia and Jonathan…" Even my own power had only seemed to strengthen over the years—despite one outstanding, beautiful exception… In the beginning, I'd been miserable. I had found myself unable to block out one iota of noise, but over the years, I had grown to acquire more control over it. To block out certain voices, to increase my hearing range. The one time _I'd_ ever doubted my skill was the day I'd met Beau and his impenetrable mind.

Archie had never had to question his power in this way, and it was frustrating for him. It scared him; he relied so much on his ability to predict the future, and this particular instance had him fearful he would lose the ability entirely—despite the fact that his blindness was limited only to the situation in Seattle. Nothing else had ebbed away, much to our collective relief.

"I'm beginning to think the blame lies in our own hands. Self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps. We rely too heavily on Archie's vision, waiting for him to see something before we act. But then we delay taking action, because he can't see us there… Perhaps the only way is to go in blind," I mused.

Beau's answer was immediate and hard. "No." When I looked at him, the terror in his eyes was apparent. Was he worried our initiation would spur them to come closer? I couldn't understand what he would be so terrorized about.

"I'm starting to see no other way," I said, shaking my head. "People will only continue to die if we delay anymore, and we're running out of time."

If what we were dealing with _was_ a savage group of newborns, there was only one person I could think of who would know, above all else, how to handle them.

I had tried not to bring up the past that Jessamine so despised, but we were steadily running out of options, and her extensive knowledge of the newborns and the military ways of her past was our best chance.

"Were you set on going to school today?" I asked Beau. "There won't be any new material anyway; just reviewing material for finals."

"Truancy. Sweet," Beau said, "I'm all in. What are we doing?" He was already standing, crossing to the sink to rinse his dishes.

"I'd like to speak with Jessamine."

When we arrived at the house, CNN was on the television, the volume turned low enough that I doubted Beau would be able to hear it. Jessamine, Earnest and Carine were all watching together. My parents sat side by side on the couch, their eyes tense with concern and compassion. Jessamine sat curled in the cream-colored armchair like a cat, her tawny eyes slightly narrowed at the screen.

 _These numbers are impossible… I'd estimate we're dealing with a much larger grouping than we formerly thought… A dozen, maybe a few more than that…_

Archie was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, his lips tight and his forehead creased with consternation.

 _Why am I so blind?_ he agonized, _Is there something we're missing? Some breed or species I can't see, like the wolves? What if other things start slipping, too, like Sulpicia's decisions…?_

Eleanor came down the stairs, her thoughts the only ones in the room that were not entirely orbiting the crisis in Seattle. She was totally at ease, knowing we would reach a conclusion sooner or later.

"Hey, Edy," she greeted me, and then turned to Beau. "Hey, kid. Playing hooky?" She grinned.

Beau shrugged. "Sure. No biggie."

Eleanor grinned, poking him in the shoulder. "Okay, cool guy. You go ahead and try and act all tough."

I put my hands on my hips, rolling my eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, El, we're dealing with something a little more serious than final exam reviews." I turned to Frisbee the newspaper I'd grabbed off Beau's kitchen table at Carine. "They're considering a serial killer now," I informed her.

Carine sighed, plucking the paper out of the air. "They've had two specialists debating that possibility on CNN all morning," she informed me.

"We have to do something," I implored her. As the leader of our coven, she was often the one to give the final go-ahead, though our family had always acted more on a democratic-basis than a dictatorship.

 _I know we do,_ she agreed, _But I don't feel comfortable taking a blind leap until Archie is able to see something a little more affirmative. We don't know how many we're dealing with; Jessamine thinks it may be upwards of a dozen neophytes, and I don't want to go into this with uneven numbers. Especially when we have no idea of their motives, or how they'll react to our advance._

"Let's go now," Eleanor enthused, brightening at the prospect. "I'm dead bored."

Upstairs, Royal growled.

 _This isn't even our fight,_ he grumbled, _Let the Volturi deal with it—like they should. This isn't our responsibility. Who cares if they make a side-trip here while they're at it? Not me._

"Such a pessimist," Eleanor said brightly, almost tenderly, glancing toward the staircase.

With some effort, I turned my attention away from Royal. "We'll have to go sometime," I said, finding myself agreeing with El.

Just then, Royal appeared at the top of the staircase, and descended slowly. His face was impassive, giving nothing away, and he struggled to keep his thoughts the same way, though he couldn't quite hide his bitterness.

Once again, he questioned Beau's importance, why we were putting so much worth in the protection of one human, resentfully impatient.

 _If he's ready, he's ready. Why are we_ _ **still**_ _waiting?_

"I'm concerned," Carine was saying, "We've never involved ourselves in this kind of thing before. It's not our business; we aren't the Volturi." _This isn't our duty, and I don't mean to wash my hands of it—but the guard will invariably know how to handle this better than we are able… Maybe it's time we let them come…_

"I don't want the Volturi coming here," I contended sharply.

 _All those innocents,_ Earnest worried, _It's not right to let them die this way…_

 _I still can't comprehend a purpose, but I can't think of anything else that would make sense… So many deaths… No regard for circumspection… The lack of relocation—maybe waiting for a second line? The steadily rising numbers… So many can only mean one thing… An army._

I felt my body lock down with surprise, and I whirled to look at Jessamine, who was still coiled in her chair.

"You know what? I think you're right… Exactly right. Now that you say it, it seems so obvious. If you're correct, that changes everything…" A frisson of dread slid an icy finger down my spine, but in the next instant, the dread ebbed, and determination took center stage.

 _Let them come…_ A savage, indomitable part of my mind whispered. I fought the animalistic instinct back, forcing myself to think logically.

Jessamine's eyes met mine, widening a little. She hadn't realized I'd been listening, hadn't regarded her contemplations with any sort of concreteness until I'd agreed with her.

 _Umm—out loud?_ Eleanor thought in annoyance.

 _How do you expect us to get anything done if you're going to talk in code all day long?_ Royal grumbled silently.

 _Please share with us, Edythe,_ Carine thought, and even she was a little perturbed, _Now is not the time to keep things from each other._

"What's going on?" Archie asked Jessamine, at her side now, his arm around her shoulders. "What just came into that beautiful head of yours?"

"I think you'd better explain," I said to Jess, "This is your area of expertise."

Jessamine stared at me a moment, feeling like she'd been thrown to the sharks. She didn't like being the center of attention—it reminded her too much of her days as a newborn general, and the sense of reliance they'd all had on her.

She took in the faces of her family around her, reminding herself she needed us as much as we all needed her, that her leadership was meant for good in this instant. She struggled to piece together the depravity of her former life, and the benevolent turn of this new one.

 _If I'm going to explain, I think Beau should know the whole story, first,_ she warned me. _He is family now, after all._

She didn't see the surprise in my expression—my sister had truly changed in the months Beau had been a part of my life. She hated telling the stories of her past, but she regarded Beau as a brother now—and she cared about him enough to divulge her shameful quondam.

Jessamine's expression softened, and she turned gentle eyes on Beau as she uncoiled herself from her seat to stand.

"You must be confused," she said to him. Of course, it wasn't an assumption—she could feel the perplexed atmosphere of her family's emotions around her.

"We all are," Eleanor griped. "Mind sharing with the class?" she demanded sarcastically, growing impatient.

"Yes, El," Jessamine said evenly, turning patient, amused eyes on our sister's face, "We all know how little forbearance you possess." Then she turned her attention back on Beau, smiling gently. "In order for Beau to understand, first I must explain some things. He's family now, after all."

Her words seemed to take Beau by surprise. His eyes widened a little as Jessamine ordered the succession of her thoughts in a fraction of a second.

"How much do you know about me, Beau?" she asked him.

 _Ugh_ , Eleanor huffed with obvious impatience as she threw herself on the couch, _Wake me up when she says something_ new _._

Beau shrugged. "Uh, not a whole lot," he admitted.

 _Does he know about Miguel, Edythe? The newborns? Does he know how many times I've killed?_

"No," I told her, "I'm sure you can understand why I would refrain from telling him of your stories. But I see he needs to know, now."

She nodded demurely in agreement, and then threw me one more glance, her eyebrow twitching slightly. _He can handle this?_

"I believe so," I said under my breath, and put a steadying hand on Beau's arm. How many times had I underestimated his formidable strength and persistence?

Jessamine tugged the loosely-knit material of her ivory sweater halfway up her arm, over the knob of her elbow. Then she reached for the nearby lampshade, pushing it out of her way to cast the light over her delicate wrist. She tilted it in the luminescence the bulb cast, and traced one of the bite marks, which was very obvious to the rest of us, with her pinky finger.

It took him a minute. He had to take a step closer and squint in order to see her battle scars clearly, and I was reminded of just how frail his eyesight must be. Jessamine's skin was ravaged with the bite marks of hundreds, thousands of newborns. When he finally made out the moon-shaped scar on her arm, he inhaled sharply.

"That's just like mine," he said, lifting his hand to gaze down at the scar Joss had forever engraved into the porcelain skin of his finger.

Jessamine smiled faintly. _If only it were just one,_ she thought.

Then she traced her finger along another bite mark on her neck, her jaw, tracing each shape again, and again, and again, pulling up her other sleeve to expose the brocade pattern of her skin, marked with countless feathered half-moon shapes.

Beau's eyes followed each movement, understanding rising quickly in his expression. At once, his eyes were brimming with compassionate shock, even pity.

"Jessamine," he rasped, nearly soundless with the depth of his emotion, "What-what _happened_ to you?"

Of course, Jessamine's story was more atrocious than the most despicable of horror movies. I felt my shoulders stiffen as she began, wondering just how much Beau would know by the end of this, and if it would change his perspective on his new life.

.

 **A/N:** I've been working pretty hard on Jessamine's story in the next chapter. The (mainly the beginning) story from her perspective is quite a bit different than Jasper's—again, due to gender roles. So I'm excited for you guys to see what I did with it! As always, thank thank thank you for your wonderful, unending support and sweet, sweet reviews! They keep me going! xo

(P.S. I got married at eighteen—so I understand Beau's perspective very much. My entire family was very concerned, very judgmental. But five years later, my husband and I are very happy, our marriage is very strong, and it just goes to show what hard work, communication, LAUGHTER and treating love as a verb can do!)


	11. Jessamine

**A/N:** Hi, my faithful readers! Here's Jessamine's story for you. I kept much of it very similar to the original story line, save a few differentiating gender roles—antiquated, Edythe would call them ;)

I hope you enjoy, and I'll see you at the end!

.

I had never been so afraid of frightening Beau away with the truth. The only other time that came close had been the day I'd brought him home to meet my family and told him of our history. Jessamine's story, by far, was more atrocious than any of the rest of ours. Even in my rebel days, I hadn't come anywhere close to the monstrosity that my sister had been exposed to, and was forced to be a part of.

While Royal's story had been terrible and brutal, it only illustrated what _human_ monsters were capable of. The wooing of his eventual murderess—in theory—and the horrible beating he'd endured were almost as heartbreaking as the hopes and dreams that had been torn from his hands. Royal had lived a gilded life, sheltered from the despair of the Depression, with his banker father, his mother, and his two sisters, whom he'd adored and doted on.

When he met Reese King, his parents approved immediately. They knew the Kings to be a prosperous family—and with Reese's father as head of bank, Royal would be next in line to take over once he retired. Mr. King was pleased with Royal's work ethics and appearances both, and he approved of him immediately for his daughter.

Though Royal craved the luxuries of a wealthy and successful life, there was a very large part of him that wanted a family to support and love. That had all been vanquished on one unfortunate night.

He'd lingered at work, late one night, and on his way home, he happened upon his fiancée, roaming the streets alone. She unwittingly led him into a secluded alley, where he happened across her rendezvous with her mafia lover there. Afraid for her reputation, Reese sic'd her lover and his men on him. With their various weapons, they beat him nearly to death, and left him to fade in the streets.

Carine smelled the blood; she'd been working as a nurse at the local hospital at the time, and I'd been posing as Earnest's younger sister. She found him bleeding in the streets, and recognized his battered and swollen face. Heartbroken over the potential loss, she decided to change him.

But Jessamine's story… Jessamine's story was so much worse, because it epitomized the depravity of what our kind was capable of. Royal's murderers had been mortal, weak and small. But the monsters in Jessamine's life had been anything but—and once, she'd been a monster, too.

Beau listened quietly as Jessamine spoke of the difference between the Northern and Southern covens, laying the backstory's foundation before she elaborated upon her own. She painted a picture for Beau of the way the world had been—how it still remained, for many of our kind. With people as nothing more than objects to feed on, and land simply territory to be claimed.

She touched briefly on the Volturi's role in everything, how they'd strived to keep the battling covens in check, and no one could miss the respect in her voice when they spoke of them. I understood, of course, her reasoning behind it. Despite their intentions to destroy anyone who threatened their reign or did not enforce their rules, Jessamine respected them for the force they were. It made sense that she would cling to that hope in a world where she'd had so little. To know the Volturi, meant she knew there was a limit, an end to the monstrosity.

"They are the only ones the southern covens fear. If not for the Volturi, the rest of us would be quickly exposed."

Beau listened quietly, not speaking, as Jessamine compared The North, as she called it. She talked about the stereotypical way the Southerners lived—only coming out at night, spending the day hidden while they plotted and schemed. The Southerners had truly lived as stereotypical vampires: hiding from the sun, with no repute for human life. Jessamine compared the way they regarded the humans as herds of cattle by the wayside—food, and nothing but that.

Beau had yet to react, to speak, until Jessamine gave a name to one of the characters from her story.

"…But the _most_ effective tactic was invented by a vampire by the name of Benita. She was fairly young—only a century old—and she made quite an entrance." She chuckled quietly to herself. "As far as anyone knows, she heralded from somewhere north of Dallas and massacred the two small covens that shared the area near Houston. Two nights later, she took on the much stronger clan of allies that claimed Monterrey in northern Mexico. Again, she emerged victorious."

Beau shook his head slowly, his eyes wide with… Fear? Fascination? I couldn't tell the difference. Jessamine was so deeply committed to her story that she had pushed her gift to the wayside for the time being. "How?" Did he notice that his voice was quaking? "How did she do it?"

The corner of Jessamine's lips pulled up into an almost crafty smirk. "Newborns," she said, her voice ominous, "Benita had created an army of newborn vampires. No one else had ever come up with such an idea, and at first, she was unstoppable. Newborns are very powerful, very strong. Put ten or fifteen together and they'll easily wipe out an entire coven—but they are also very difficult to control. Just as easily as they would turn on the enemy, they would destroy each other." I watched Beau's face carefully for a response—fear, anxiety, anger, determination?—but his face remained impassive. If it weren't for his hammering pulse and shallow breaths, I would have believed he was entirely unaffected by Jessamine's story-telling.

"Benita was forced to create more of the savages as they continued to annihilate each other. That, and to refresh her force as the covens they destroyed took half of her own comrades down with them.

"You see, though newborns are a force to be reckoned with, it _is possible_ to destroy them. If you know what you're doing. Though strong, they are entirely subjugated by their instincts, and therefore, their moves can be easily predicted. Their muscle and ferocity allows them to crush an older vampire with ease. But where they rule in strength, they lack in discipline.

"The vampires in southern Mexico heard of the uproar, of course, and fearing their own downfall, began to make armies of their own…

"And thus—Hell's floodgates opened. Chaos erupted. The skies were thick with lavender smoke—a telltale sign of burning vampire parts—and the bodies of the humans used to quench the newborns' thirst reached unprecedented proportions. There were so many deaths, in fact, that human historians blamed the population slump on disease.

"Of course, word got back to Sulpicia, and she finally took action." Beau visibly flinched when Jessamine mentioned the Volturi, and I had been expecting this reaction. Though he knew their threat to be very real, he couldn't possibly comprehend the reality of what Jessamine had witnessed. While this, very likely, seemed like a story to him, Sulpicia and her guard were a very real threat to him.

Still, Sulpicia had done her part in rectifying the issue. Had it not been for her quick and thorough action, who knows what would have become of not only our world, but the human world as well?

"The entire guard came together—one of the two times they've ever done so; so exceedingly rare is the necessity—and destroyed the rebelling covens. They began with Benita's army, and continued with the rest.

"The guard spent nearly a year in the bottom half of North America—annihilating any vampire they came across. Their demolition was so great and far-reaching that, for a time, Mexico was completely void of our kind.

"Of course, once the guard returned to Italy, the armies began to build themselves anew. Of course, they were more careful now, aware of the potential retribution. The comrades were selected with more care, and given more extensive training. While the humans remained all but oblivious, the Volturi remained satisfied that they were now following the rules, and saw no reason to repeat their eradication.

"Of course, there were times when various covens raised human suspicion, and Sulpicia would send her guard to do away with them; but for the most part, the others remained inconspicuous, and were allowed to continue on with their ways…"

She paused for a very brief moment, lost in thought, and I saw the recognition animate Beau's face.

"That's how you were changed," he realized.

"Yes," Jessamine acknowledged.

I wanted her to stop there—surely Beau had comprehended the larger picture, and there was no need for her to go on, but I knew now that he'd heard half of the story, it was only reasonable to share the rest.

"We lived in Houston, Texas—and I was almost seventeen when the Civil War broke out in 1861. My father had died when I was young, so it was only my mother and I. From what I remember, we were quite close.

"I did what I could to contribute to the war efforts at the time. Because there were no men in our family to enlist, I encouraged others to recruit. From what we now know of my gift, it must have manifested as something like charisma or persuasion in my human life. I was able to encourage many to enroll—speaking in every public place I could. There were not many who did not heed my urgings.

"The war continued without ceasing. As much as I hoped it would be over quickly, my prayers went unanswered. More people were dying, and I learned of the horrid ways of the Union armies. I feared for my mother's wellbeing while I was away doing what I could to help—supplying the armies with food, clothing and other necessities. My days of volunteering were long, and I worried about my mother being left alone in our home. I acquired the means to purchase a pistol, for protection.

"But I felt as if there were still more I could do to help. So I took on a more active roll in the war, and signed up as a nurse. I joined the Sanitary Commission, working my way to the front lines—to aid the fallen and the wounded soldiers in our makeshift hospitals.

"It was not a common thing for a girl as young as I to be recruited in the nurses' efforts. Dorothea Dix called for matronly, responsible women whose youth and indecorous ways would not distract the troops. Most of the women recruited were over thirty years of age. I was younger than that by a long shot—even though I lied about my age. Another example of my power of inducement, I suppose.

"In the times of quiet and absence of busy-ness, I often took a horse down to the river and built a fire. By its light, I wrote to my mother about my days, encouraging her to continue her volunteering at home; I'd found myself able to convince her to join the efforts before I'd enlisted."

Jessamine paused for a moment, orienting her emotions and forcing back the sudden surge of bitterness she felt when she remembered the night she'd been changed. Long ago, she had surmised that, somehow, the vampires who had found her had somehow sensed her extra abilities—and because of it, regarded her as too special to waste. Over time, she'd grown to embrace her gift, but in the beginning, she'd only resented it.

At first, she'd regretted the talent that had set her apart from the others—vexed by her differentiation. But it had been a very long time since she'd felt that way; she knew that if she'd lived a normal life, she never would have met Archie, and she couldn't imagine her life without him. Despite her contentedness, she couldn't help but wonder, _what if_?

 _What if I'd been as unassuming as the rest of them?_ she wondered now, _Would they still have chosen me if I'd been just another regular nurse? Would they have changed me if they hadn't sensed the gift that set me apart? What if I'd never enlisted in the first place; if I'd stayed home with my mother and continued to help behind the lines?_

"This is where I was the night they found me," she finally continued, though her inner musings had only silenced her for half a moment, barely enough time for Beau to notice. "I did not hear their approach; one minute I was alone, and the next the three of them were standing in front of me.

"Three men stood there by the river, watching me with curious expressions. I was immediately struck by their beauty, and for an instant, I believed them to be angels.

"'This one appears as if alone,' the tallest man said. His hair was the color of straw, his skin porcelain.

"The second was blond as well, and he took a step forward, leaning toward where I crouched warily by the fire. 'Mmm,' he breathed, inhaling deeply, 'Wonderful… But she's just one. How shall we decide who claims her?'

"I was too afraid to speak. I wondered if these were stragglers from Galveston, left behind in the recent evacuation efforts—or maybe worse. The renegades I'd been warned of."

I felt the potent wave of calm she sent out then, and I wondered if it was for Beau's sake, or hers. However, no amount of calm she exuded could quite keep _my_ panic at bay. How much would she say? The details of each of our changes were violent and traumatic, and though I knew Beau deserved to know the details of what he would endure, I couldn't help the instinct to shelter him.

"The slimmer one," she continued, "A dark haired man with eyes the color of onyx, held up his hand to stop the others' advance. I'd always had a good sense of how people related to each other, and it was immediately clear that the dark-haired man was somehow in charge of the others.

"'No,' he said thoughtfully, 'I think I want to keep this one.' This seemed to surprise the other men.

"The taller one balked. 'A young girl?' he inquired dubiously, 'But Miguel—I thought we were in search of soldiers. What good will an ill-trained nurse do us?'

"'Don't you sense it, Ned? She's… Special…' the dark man eyed me with unmistakable greed—and it terrified me.

"'Ah,' Ned said then, his black eyes widening, 'Yes, I see…'

"Again, Miguel held up a hand, and the two blonds stepped back obediently.

"'You'd better do it, Miguel,' the taller blond said quietly, 'You know I can only be trusted half of the time.'

"Miguel nodded, and then ordered the other two away. Somehow, this terrified me even more. My instincts told me there was danger, that the angel had meant what he said when he spoke of killing, but my judgment overruled my instincts. My mother had taught me to respect others, to always think the best of them… I suppose that may have been my downfall…"

"Miguel demanded to know my name. Stunned by paralyzing fear, I found myself unable to speak, and he asked me again.

"'What is your name, girl?' he demanded softly, almost smiling. My trembling fear did not seem to deter him.

"Somehow, I knew I was about to die—that, or endure something worse than death for a woman of my time. Suddenly, it seemed important he knew my name, where I'd come from. 'I'm Jessamine Whitlock,' I told him, 'I'm a nurse for the Civil Army, and I've left my mother at home in Houston, Texas…'

"Miguel stroked his chin, appraising me. When his eyes met mine again, he reached out a hand. When I didn't take it, he gripped me underneath the elbow—his skin was frigid, even through the layers of my uniform!—and yanked me harshly to my feet. 'I have a good feeling about you, Jessamine Whitlock,' he said when I was standing, trembling, in front of him. 'I hope you survive.'

"He took a step closer, and tilted his head as if to kiss me. I stood frozen in place, unable to think through the panic crippling my mind. Every one of my instincts told me to run, but I could do nothing but stand there…"

I opened my mouth to interrupt, but of course, Jessamine had already sensed my building tension. She sighed quietly, and flicked her eyes quickly to my face and then back to Beau's. _Fine,_ she thought, _I'll spare him the details for now—but I truly think it would do him good to be made aware before his change. The more prepared he is, the better he'll cope, likely._

"A few days later, I was introduced to my new life."

I exhaled, grateful for her censorship.

"The men who'd found me had been working together simply for convenience. Ned and Lonnie were simply a part of Miguel's plan to create a larger army. It was Miguel's idea to search for humans with more than usual promise, like myself." She smiled wryly. "He worked to train us in the skill of combat, and to keep out of the human eye. When we did well, we were rewarded…"

Of course, there was only one type of reward newborn vampires were interested in—blood. I was glad when she spared the unnecessary details and continued quickly.

She went on to explain the quick addition of Miguel's other soldiers—mostly former members of the Civil War; men with promising experience from their human lives. Jessamine had been the one exception, and Miguel had learned quickly not to regret the decision he'd made to change her.

At the time, the concept of women fighting was outrageous, but in the vampire world, gender roles were quickly vanquished. Females and males alike were equal in strength. Because of her size and gender, the other newborns tended to pick on her in the beginning. Along with all the other pieces of their humanity, the newborns had abandoned their sense of chivalry behind with their human lives. Out of necessity for survival, Jessamine fought hard to advance through the ranks. She suspected she might have had a preternatural disposition for fighting, as it came quite easily to her.

Miguel was impressed with her natural disposition for warfare, and quickly named her as his second in command. He was careful not to make his neophytes aware of a better life—he was selfish, and he was merciless, and he wanted Jessamine's skill and charisma all to himself.

It was soon after she was put in charge of the group of newcomers that she discovered her formerly persuasive charisma from her human days had morphed into the ability to manipulate the emotional atmospheres around her. This made it easier to keep them under control, and soon, the disunity came to an end, which pleased Miguel. Having to replace the newborns because of their own overactive tempers perturbed him.

"I followed each of his orders blindly—never having known any better. My entire world revolved around him; he was everything to me, everything I'd ever known, and I was eager to please him," Jessamine continued, "He was ecstatic when I drew together an army of twenty-three exceedingly resilient newborns, systematized and incredibly skilled.

"Miguel led us down to Monterrey, where he'd lived before, and unleashed us on his adversaries. We obliterated them easily. Miguel was astonished at the ease with which we destroyed them; we only lost four in the process. Such a surpassing triumph had never before been heard of.

"In a single night, the city changed hands—and no humans took notice of the overthrow.

"Of course, Miguel's hunger for power made him greedy, and the taste of success had him extending his control until he governed over most of Texas and northern Mexico… That was when the others came from the South to expel him…"

She paused, idly brushing the scars on her arms, thinking of her fallen comrades.

"The fighting was… Unimaginably intense," she said softly, her tawny eyes faraway, her thoughts a flickering picture show of the events from her past. I watched Beau's face carefully as she went on. His eyes were wide and full of compassion as she spoke, and I reached over to brush my hand over the back of his. "Many began to worry that the Volturi would return to put an end to our brutality, but miraculously, no one came…

"Of the original twenty-three, I was the only one to survive the first eighteen months…"

A sort of memorial shimmered in her thoughts, remembering the fledglings she'd trained, the first of many, unique in all their promise and newness.

"Eventually Ned and Lonnie turned on Miguel—and I noticed when their steadfast emotions shifted. We took them down with a simplicity that was ludicrous.

"And so, Miguel and I continued as we were in Monterrey. The wars eased some, but never ceased. The motives were predominantly due to retribution and dispute now, rather than the idea of occupation. Many had lost their mates in the wars, and this is something our kind has no tolerance for…"

When Jessamine began to speak of her responsibility to dispose of the newborns when they were no longer of use, I heard Beau's breath catch, and I slid a comforting arm around his waist.

 _He's fine,_ she assured me, _It's concern and empathy he's experiencing—not distress._

Thankfully, she skipped over the brutality of one of the worst things she'd ever been forced to do, moving on to her friendship with one of the vampires who had always been more civil, Patricia.

"It was just over thirty years later when I developed a kinship with a newborn who'd remained promising, and had survived her first three years, against all odds. Miguel seldom kept female soldiers on hand, but he had begun to relax his stance—trusting me to be able to train anyone who was assigned to my instruction.

"Patricia and I grew close quickly. She was more domestic than the others—able to retain an unusual amount of empathy from her human life, especially in the newborn stages. She didn't enjoy the battling—I knew this, of course—but she hid it well from the others. She was very good at what she did, and she was trusted to take on a higher status—as a caregiver, of sorts, for the newborns…

"Eventually, the time came to purge again. The newborns were losing their unmatched strength and ferocity. Purging nights were always very long, and they always took a great toll on me—for I could feel the emotions of each vampire I drew aside and destroyed. The suspicion, the fear, the despair when they realized what was happening… I felt it all, too…

"Patricia was never one to push her words on anyone, but this night, she did her best to convince me that a few had potential, and that we should set them aside. But Miguel wouldn't have been pleased, and I stood my ground.

"This night of expunging had been taking more of a toll on Patricia than was usual. I could feel her growing tension and despair as the night went on, and I debated sending her away, finishing up on my own, as I called forth the next victim. To my great astonishment, a swell of passionate anger, even rage, rose inside her. I hadn't a clue what to make of it, baffled by whatever had triggered her sudden abrupt-face, and prepared to fight her.

"The newborn I'd summoned was a male, just past his year mark. His name was Charles, and her feelings changed when he came into view; her emotions betrayed her. I knew in an instant what had occurred—the two had fallen in love. She shrieked at him to run, and stunned as I was by this impossible occurrence, I stood frozen as she fled after him. I thought about pursuing them, knowing I would be able to take both of them down easily, but something stopped me… I was fond of Patricia, and it disturbed me to contemplate destroying her…

"Miguel was irritated with me for that, but I could never bring myself to regret letting the two escape…"

Jessamine's expression grew troubled as she described the dark days following Patricia's insurgence—her increasing despondency, and her weakening tolerance for the brutality of that lifestyle. The trust between herself and Miguel had begun to wane, and she began to notice suspicious changes in his emotional atmosphere. She was preparing for the worst choice she would have ever had to make up until that point—to destroy the only true confidant she'd ever known, the man her world had revolved around, though she would never call her feelings toward him love… To destroy him, or prepare to be destroyed herself.

Before she'd had to make her decision, Patricia returned for her.

"Patricia told me of her new life with Charles, and the options I'd never dreamed of having… In the half-decade that had passed, the two had never been involved in battle, though they'd met many others in the North—others who were able to co-exist without the relentless anarchy.

"We discussed for all of ten minutes—and I was convinced. I knew nothing other than the life of war I'd been raised in, but there was enough hope in Patricia's emotional atmosphere that it had me optimistic, eager for a better life…"

 _That was the first time I saw her since I'd woken from my change,_ Archie mused, his eyes gentle with tenderness for his wife. Though she couldn't hear his thoughts, she could feel the love he was projecting, and she turned to smile softly at him. _I still had years of waiting left to do, but she made the choice that night that would eventually lead her to me._

As Jessamine spoke of the years she'd traveled with Patricia and Charles, I expected the familiar atmosphere of her self-loathing and despairing guilt to make themselves apparent in her thoughts, but they didn't come. She spoke of the unceasing depression, and her struggle to grasp hold of a life more humane than the one she'd left—and all of it, she recited as if rote, as if it were mere textbook history she'd memorized, as if she'd somehow been able to separate herself from the emotions in these few moments.

"I went as long as I could without taking life, but my thirst would ultimately overcome me and I would surrender to the urge. After a century of instant gratification, I found self-restraint… difficult. I still haven't achieved that."

She was lost in the story, the images in her mind shifting from the melancholy days of her hopeless depression, to a rainy day outside a café in Philadelphia.

"I wandered for a time apart from my friends—fearing my melancholy mood was burdening them, and I found myself in Philadelphia…" She smiled gently up at Archie then. "It was an overcast day—a storm coming, and I was out during the day. I'd been trying my hand at the Northern way." She gave a short laugh. "But it still wasn't something I was entirely comfortable with yet. When the rain came, I knew I would attract attention if I remained in the outdoors, so I ducked into a little half-empty diner. I hadn't fed for some time, so my eyes were dark enough that they wouldn't draw attention—though this meant I was thirsty, of course, and being in such close proximity to humans set me a bit on edge."

Jessamine gave a little laugh, and then regarded her husband with loving eyes once more. "He was there, of course—he'd been waiting for me. He slid from the booth at the back of the diner and waltzed right up to me, a friendly smile on his open face. And his eyes—the strangest color, like jewels I remember likening them to. I'd never seen this disparity in any other vampire, and I immediately had my guard up. Was this some other species? Did he mean to attack?

"But, as I said before, he was smiling—and the emotions that were radiating from him were like nothing I'd ever felt before…" In her mind, Archie had been the picture of perfection—striding toward her across the small space, his beatific face pure and absolutely radiant. Her memory of their first moment, reflected in his own eyes as she gazed adoringly up at him, was so intimate, so personal, that I felt as if I were intruding just by listening.

 _I've never known a day when I've not loved you,_ he thought now, with such ardor it pulsed like a physical force, directly from his heart to hers.

"You said, 'I've been waiting for you a long time, little lady.'" Jessamine did not take her eyes off Archie's, lost in the inexorable clouds of his adoration.

"And you lifted your skirts and curtsied like a fine Southern belle and said, 'Please forgive me'." Archie chuckled at the memory.

"You offered me your hand, and though I'd never known anything but a life of violence and betrayal, I took it. And as you drew my knuckles to your lips, I felt hope for the first time in almost a century." Her voice was serious, quiet as Archie took her hand and replicated the same gesture he'd performed the day they'd met.

"You know, for awhile there, I thought you'd _never_ show up… Maybe I was just a tad impatient."

Jessamine giggled. "Just a little…" She turned back to Beau, refocusing her attention. "He told me what he'd seen of Carine and her family, and I could hardly comprehend that such an existence might be possible for our kind. He taught me how to hunt animals." She wrinkled her nose, remembering her first encounter with an elk. "And as we got to know each other, we made our way to the Cullens."

"Scared the hell out of them when you showed up," Eleanor interjected then. "Edy and I were out hunting, so we missed out on all the fun, but Jess shows up, covered head to toe in battle scars, towing this scrawny freak"—she shouldered Archie playfully—"who saunters right up and says, 'Hey, I'm Archie. You're Carine, Earnest, and Royal. Edythe and Eleanor are away hunting… How goes it?'. Wants to know everything about us, and then asks which room he can move into."

 _I didn't see the point in_ _ **asking**_ _—I'd already seen that Carine would invite us to stay._

Archie and Jessamine laughed together, bass and soprano.

I found my voice then, laughing softly. "When I got home, all my things were in the garage."

Archie shrugged. "Your room had the best view."

We all laughed again. Archie's smile was the first to fade.

 _I still don't get it… Why didn't I see this coming…?_ "An army?" Archie said to Jessamine. "Why didn't you mention it sooner?"

"I thought I must have been mistaken," Jessamine defended herself, eyes wide. "None of it added up—there was no reason for it. No history, no crusade; it makes no sense from a conquest angle, either. No one has any current claim over it." She shook her head, perplexed. "But the obviousness of it is impossible to ignore. I am confident now that there is a newborn army in Seattle. More than a dozen, fewer than two, I would ascertain. And whoever created them gave them no warning, no instruction… There is only one way this will be brought to an end…" _The Volturi will come if we do not abolish them. I'm surprised they've let it go on this long…_

"What can we do?" Carine wondered fretfully.

Jessamine shook her head morosely. "I'm afraid we have no choice but to destroy them—if we want to avoid the Volturi's involvement."

I heard Beau's breath catch, and his arm wound around my waist, pulling me tight to his side. I stroked his forearm soothingly, thinking the mention of the Volturi must have set him on edge.

"We'll have to take action soon—but I believe there will be enough time to teach you the necessary maneuvers. However, it won't be an easy thing to keep discrete in the city—and it will limit us in ways they won't be… If there were only a different way…" _If we could even lure them a few miles from the city…_

Eleanor was getting excited, running through every tactic she'd only ever had to use in her roughhousing endeavors. But my mind was quickly formulating a very different picture.

"Maybe there is," I mused. "What you said—about the formation of newborn armies being for one thing only…?" I lifted my eyes to Jessamine's. "The only other grouping anywhere close to Seattle is…"

Jessamine's eyes narrowed into slits. " _Us_ ," she finished. _Of course! It's obvious!_

"That can't be," Earnest interjected, shaking his head. _There has to be other possibilities. Perhaps…_ "Tanvir's family is not far." He didn't want to admit that we might have been the inadvertent cause for so much bloodshed.

"We're a large coven of strong fighters, with diverse gifts," I contradicted him gently, shaking my head, "We're the only target that makes sense."

"They can't be coming after us," Archie argued, "I would have seen that… Unless… They don't _know_ that they are… Yet." He clenched his eyes shut and tapped his fist against his temple, as if trying to dislodge something that was stuck there.

A sudden storm of indistinct, flickering images blew through his mind—so quickly I could hardly see one image before it switched to the next: a group of vampires, diving off Seattle's docks, the same group zipping through the forest, a familiar red t-shirt—Beau's—held in the slim, porcelain hands of an unfamiliar female vampire… A flicker of… Fire?

"What is that?" I asked him, perplexed. "What are you seeing?"

"Just flashes," he said, unable to get a solid grip on them. His face crumpled with frustration. "I can't get anything concrete, nothing solid. It's like—someone's changing their mind, jumping from one course of action to another so quickly that I can't get a good look at the first choice before it's gone…"

"As if they're indecisive?" Jessamine asked in disbelief. _That can't be right. Whether their actions involve any sort of forethought, newborns act on almost instinct alone… Indecision wouldn't make a difference._

"I don't know…" Archie rapped his knuckles against his head even harder, clenching his eyes shut in concentration. The images came once more, each hazy, inarticulate image sending a jolt of pain through his head as he attempted to focus. _What am I missing?!_

"It's not indecision," I realized, and my voice sounded numb as I went suddenly still underneath Beau's arm. "They're using _knowledge_ to their advantage… Knowledge of your gift, knowledge of its loopholes. Whoever it is knows you can't see anything until a decision is made. They're hiding from us."

"Who the hell would _know_ that?"

The weight of unease settled deep in my belly. No one knew Archie's gift better than Archie—except myself, because I could see directly into his thoughts… "Sulpicia might," I suggested, remembering the fascination she'd had over Archie's gift, the glimpses of its evidence in my thoughts she'd had, even before she'd formally met him.

Archie shook his head, frustrated. "I would have _seen_ if she'd decided to send someone. We've been over that!"

But didn't he see, that was exactly my point? "Unless they don't want blood on their hands…" I hinted, arching a brow at him.

To my great surprise, it was Royal who understood first. "A favor. Someone in the South… someone who already stepped in it, who would have done anything to get a second chance… If they took care of this one small problem, maybe they'd be let off the hook… That would explain the Volturi's indolence." He scoffed quietly, disgusted. Royal only knew too much of the measures one would go to, in order to avoid the destruction of their own destruction, physical or societal…

"Why?" Carine was baffled, entirely blind to the possible motives, despite the fact she knew the workings of the Volturi's ways. She knew of Sulpicia's malicious potential, but she stubbornly continued to believe she, just like every other person in this world, was inherently good and pure. It made her uneasy to think they would take such drastic, cruel measures for no other reason but to gain power. Of course, she had not heard the same craving for domination in Sulpicia's thoughts as I had. After all, Sulpicia had murdered her own husband in the pursuit of knowledge and prestige. She hadn't heard the fear and jealousy regarding Carine's growing family…

"There's no reason—"

I sighed softly, dejectedly. Carine heard me and stopped speaking at once.

 _Edythe?_

"It was there in her thoughts," I said softly, and it made me sick to have to say the words out loud. "Only, I didn't expect for her to arrive at this conclusion so soon. It was only faint, a niggling… She hadn't _really_ begun to consider it yet… The other thoughts were stronger… At first it was just me she saw, at her side. But then later, she added Archie to the picture, too. She considered it so quickly it was barely a flash in her mind, but I saw it. Her idea of the present, the past and the future, together. Essential omniscience. She wanted it very much—I would have assumed it would have taken her much longer to discard the plan…

"But then…" I looked into my mother's soft, ochre eyes, hating the idea of her innocence being destroyed purely for the sake of another's jealousy. "But then there was also the thought of you, Carine, of our family, growing stronger and larger… She was jealous and afraid—not that you had _more_ than she, but… Things that she wanted." I would have said _Gifts_ but it would have made it all too obvious, too painful. "She tried not to think about it, but she couldn't veil it completely. The idea of doing away with the competition was there; besides their own, our coven is the largest they've ever come across…"

 _Impossible,_ Carine thought, _Sulpicia would never incite a battle without any other reason but jealousy… They instilled the rules millennia ago—they were entirely faithful to them…_ "They're too committed to their mission. They would never break the rules themselves. It goes against everything they've worked for."

"They'll clean up afterward." I felt my mouth twist indignantly. It would be all too easy for them—after all, they had enough power to sway others to believe their stories, especially if there were no witnesses to argue against them. "A double betrayal. No harm done."

Jessamine reached forward to touch my hand. "No." _I've seen the brutality they can unleash—but I cannot believe they would act without provocation._ "I think Carine is right. The Volturi do not break rules." _Especially their own._ "Besides, it's much too sloppy. This threat—they have no idea what they're doing. A first-timer, I could guarantee it." _The mess, the human notice… The Volturi are much more methodical than this, Edythe._ "I can't believe the Volturi are involved. But they will be." _I have no doubts about this._

"Then let's _go_ ," Eleanor nearly begged, "What are we _waiting_ for?" _Nothing's gonna get solved if we just sit around here all day!_

Carine's thoughts were frantic and agonized. _There must be some other way than to simply destroy them… If whoever created them simply left them to their own devices, of course they would proceed in this fashion. If we could speak with them, reason with them,_ _ **teach**_ _them of a better way…_

Carine had spent centuries believing good was an underlying factor in the world—that for every anguished paid, there _must_ be a resulting reward. She believed, no matter the sinister action, there was _hope_ for every individual—that underneath every spiteful demeanor, was a craving to be _good_.

But as she struggled toward some sort of absolution, even she could not deny the inevitability of where and how this would end.

 _If this is the only foreseeable way,_ she concluded, _I'll accept it—to protect my family._

Her eyes fell on mine, and I reached for her hand in response to her sudden change in mindset. "Thank you," I whispered.

Carine held her eyes on my face, somber with the burden of what would undoubtedly occur, but resolute in her steadfastness. She would do it, if it was what it took to keep her husband and children well. She held her hand to her bosom, heart breaking, and slowly turned to Jessamine.

"Yes," she finally said softly, and I could hear the disconsolate turmoil in her physical voice as well as her mind, "I see now that this is the only way… Will you teach us, Jessamine?" _Teach us how to destroy them?_ she could barely speak the words in her mind, so much agony they caused her. She didn't dare speak them aloud.

"I'll do the best I can with the time we have left, but I don't want to risk anything—we _will_ require assistance. Do you think Tanvir's family would be willing…?" She trailed off, hating to subject another familial coven to the brutality of war, but she was confident we would not succeed alone—at least, not entirely intact. "Another five mature vampires would give us an unprecedented advantage. And then Kirill and Elena would be especially beneficial on our side. It would almost be easy, with their aid."

"We'll ask," Carine said to her. Though the thought of involving anyone else bothered her, she could see the urgency in Jessamine's request, and knew she wouldn't have felt the need to ask if it weren't necessary.

Apologetics clear in her mental tones—she could see the hesitance in Carine's eyes—Jessamine offered her cell phone to our mother. "We'll need to hurry."

Carine nodded once and took the phone from her newest daughter. She crossed the room to the windows as she dialed the number, and then held the phone to her ear.

I wrapped both my arms around Beau's soft waist and rested my head on his chest, not having realized until now just how much I needed his unwavering support. I closed my eyes, counting the comforting beats of his heart, and the steady breaths that entered and expired from his lungs.

I felt his hand on my back, rubbing soft, calming circles, and I wondered what he was thinking.

Tanvir answered the phone.

"Hello, Tanvir. How do you do?"

"Carine! How lovely to hear from you! We are well—and your family?"

Carine hesitated for just a moment, and then drew a breath. "It seems we've found ourselves in a bit of a problematic condition," she admitted finally.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Tanvir's sympathy sounded genuine.

"I'm sure you've heard of the brutality in Seattle…"

"Yes. It's just awful," Tanvir said.

Carine explained the rest quickly—the details of our own conclusions, and Jessamine's suspicions of a newborn army—thankful her debriefing was cut short by their knowledge of the basic situation. "The reason I'm calling is to ask for your assistance, Tanvir," she finally requested, "Jessamine believes we'll have a much better chance of winning with your additional five."

Tanvir hesitated only briefly. "You know we think of you as family, Carine, and would come to your aid immediately in almost any situation, but I'm afraid our help is conditional at this present time."

"Conditional? For what reason?"

"I'm afraid Ivan set his eyes upon Lauren last spring. He had intended to propose, committed as he was. He was quite distraught to have learned of her death at the hands of the wolves… He still mourns her loss, Carine. I don't know if he'd be willing to come anywhere close to where the unthinkable occurred. In part, he blames your family's perplexing bond with the human your Edythe is so fond of." Tanvir didn't bother to hide his distaste.

A very unladylike word slipped from between my teeth.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Tanvir," Carine said, taken aback, "We couldn't have conceived… that Ivan felt that way."

"Of course not… But we would reconsider our stance if you made an allowance on our part."

"Which is?"

"If you allowed us permission to destroy the wolves that destroyed Lauren, we would be happy to join you in Seattle."

"I'm sorry, no," Carine responded firmly. "That's not possible. We've made a truce, and we do intend to keep it. They have done nothing to break it, and neither will we. I'm sorry to hear that…" she hesitated, remorseful.

"That Ivan's soul mate was killed for despicable reasons? I am, too, Carine. My brother has been inconsolable since the event, and I don't know when or if he'll find peace. You must understand why we are forced to decline."

"Of course. We'll do what we can on our own." She snapped the phone shut without formally ending the call—distraught as she was over Tanvir's refusal to help. She was at once filled with a profusion of feeling and thought. For an instant, she was angry and indignant at Tanvir's refusal, but then another part of her was relieved that we would not have to subject his family, as well, to the risk. Finally, the dejected thoughts entered her mind.

 _I didn't want to put them up to this, of course, but I would have gladly accepted their help if they were so willing… I fear for my family's outcome now more than ever…_

"What?" Beau hissed in my ear when no one spoke, "What happened?"

Eleanor and Jessamine, having overheard the conversation, didn't speak.

The furious flames rose inside me, hot and crippling. "Lauren," I snapped under my breath. "Damn her to the fiery pits of hell—she remains a thorn in our side, even after her destruction… It seems she and Ivan were something of an item. He holds a grudge against the wolves for destroying her to spare Beau. He wants—" I stopped myself, abruptly aware that my next words may cause Beau strife.

"What?" he demanded, eyes wide and vibrant— lucent and completely trusting.

I braced myself for his backlash. "He wants retribution; to abolish the pack. They would trade their help for our permission."

Beau visibly balked, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Carine would never allow it," I soothed him, loosening his tight fingers. I sighed, realizing no matter how much I craved the Denali coven's aid, I would never step aside either. After all, the pack had been here to safeguard Beau's life while I hadn't been, and I would forever owe them for their undue favor. "Nor would I. Lauren deserved her death, and I still owe the wolves for that."

Jessamine's thoughts were racing. She knew better than the rest of us what we were up against, and she had put a large wager on the assistance of Tanvir's family. "This is a serious blow to our confidence," she fretted, "It's too even a fight now, we're too even in numbers. Even with our upper hand in skill and age, I don't know…" She trailed off. "We'd win, but at what price?" She worried for every member of her family, of course, but her eyes were immediately on Archie's face.

 _I can't live without him…_

 _._

 **A/N:** I know some of you were disappointed that I didn't include Royal's story in Chapter 6, so I tried to squeeze a succinct summary in at the beginning of the chapter. Hope it lived up to your expectations!

Next chapter is one I think many of you have been anticipating, so keep an eye out for that :)

As always, thank you for your lovely reviews on the last chapter. I'd love to get your feedback on this one as well. xo


	12. Contendor

**A/N:** Hi, back again! I'm actually getting ahead on my pre-writing *claps gleefully* And, like, more than one chapter at a time! Woot!

Thank you for all your lovely reviews and comments on the last chapter. I'm glad it went over well! I always get so nervous making changes, because I fear it'll alter the canon feel of things…

(P.S. I was born and raised in Calgary—I still live close to there now, less than half an hour south, so I was so thrilled when I heard mention of it in Midnight Sun. I try to slip it in wherever I can because of that xD)

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 _Why does he have to be SO damn stubborn?!_

"You're _insane_! Clinically, certifiably _insane_!" Beau spluttered over lunch on Wednesday.

"Whatever, man," Archie responded, "The gig's still happening—nothin' you can do about it. I already sent the invitations, so don't try that angle. It won't get you anywhere."

I shot him a quick glare, which he pretended not to see, and kicked him underneath the table. And he thought _Beau_ was being stubborn?

I watched Beau's ears turned red, and considered taking him away for the weekend, to save him from all the anxiety incited by the idea of this party. There were other reasons, too, of course—but I figured the party excuse would be the quickest way to earn his agreement. It felt like it had been forever since we'd had a night to ourselves, free of worry, contemplation and strategizing. With so much going on—Victor, the situation in Seattle, whatever Sulpicia's agenda was—we'd hardly had any time to just _be_ together.

Though we still had our nights, those were shadowed by Beau's unrelenting anxiety—though he did his best to hide it from me. While he was unconscious, however, it was impossible for him to disguise his twitches and turns, his worried, garbled speech.

Even if we were able to just get away for a day trip… Alas, it wasn't an appropriate time. With so many uncertainties, it was best to stay close to home.

"I just don't think this is a good _time_ for a party, is all," Beau grumbled at his tray.

"It's as good a time as any," Archie insisted confidently.

Beau glared at him.

Archie sighed heavily, exasperated. "Look, there are a few things we need to get in order. That'll take a bit to organize, and as long as we're sitting around doing _nothing_ " _No thanks to my stupid blind spots…_ "we might as well make the most of the good times. How many times do you graduate from high school, after all?" He grinned at Beau, the expression so pure, I would have thought him a Catholic saint if the inner workings of his mind weren't so devilish. "You only live once, and all that." He tilted his head meaningfully.

"What do you mean by 'things we need to get in order'?" Beau asked suspiciously.

"Jessamine would like to gather some extra reinforcements," I explained. "There are more options than Tanvir's family, and Carine's trying to track down a few old friends. Jessamine is looking up Patricia and Charles, and she's considering talking to Miguel… but no one wants to involve the southerners if it can be helped."

Archie flinched. _If I ever see that bastard again…_ Under the table, his hands flexed automatically as he recalled our last encounter with him in Calgary.

"I don't think it will be too difficult to rally the others. No one wants to incite Sulpicia's wrath." I hoped, between Patricia, Charles and Carine's friends, that we would have more than enough backup.

Beau rotated the plastic spoon in his empty yogurt cup and cleared his throat. "These allies… They're not going to be _vegetarians_ … Are they?" he asked anxiously, though I could see he'd tried to come off as casual.

"No. They won't be."

The anxiety on his face was obvious, the corner of his lips twisting down. The idea of the nomads being near made him uncomfortable, that much was obvious. I wished I could ease his anxiety, assure him that there was no need to be afraid, that we would easily be able to convince them not to hunt in the area. But how could I be _sure_ they would heed our warning? The mere idea of any sort of traditional nomad being within ten feet of Beau had me insane with the urge to take him away to safety. The anxiety the idea provoked was so potent, I began considering: Could we visit Renee in Florida again? Or maybe a retreat to Portsmouth for the weekend would suffice?

 _Oh, no you don't,_ Archie chided, seeing my half-formed plans as soon as they conceptualized, _We need you_ _ **here**_ **.** "They're friends," he assuaged us both, "Everybody chill… Also," he added, "Jessamine has to teach us a few things about newborn elimination…"

Archie had the best insight into what, exactly, Jessamine was planning on teaching us over the next few nights, and I felt my disposition brighten considerably at the prospect.

Everyone was eager to learn, Eleanor especially, and Carine less so—but she continued to assure herself that this was for the good of her family, which was what mattered most to her. She wouldn't _like_ fighting, but she would do it for our coven's sake.

"When are you going?" Beau muttered.

"A week," I told him, "Plenty of time."

If anything, this seemed to worry him more, though I couldn't see _why_. I brushed his knuckles with my fingertips in an attempt to soothe his disquiet.

"You're looking for help," he said at last, quietly. Though I had no idea what he was about to say—who could he think of that we hadn't?—the familiar instinctual caution rose inside me.

"Yeah?" Archie prodded.

"… _I_ could help." Beau locked his gaze fiercely on Archie's. The cobalt in his irises blazed with ferocity, and for just the briefest of moments I could see it: Beau, by my side, strong and indomitable. _Safe. Untouchable._

In the next fraction of a second, I felt all of my muscles contract under the stress. _No._ I smothered a hiss somewhere between protestation and self-loathing.

 _Relax. I got this._ "Thanks, man." He smirked at Beau. "Really. But that would be the _opposite_ of helpful."

"Why? Eight is better than seven. There's more than enough time."

 _Real good job of preparing him, Edy. If he's delusional enough to think he'll be useful as a four-day-old vampire, he's got another thing comin'._ "Four days isn't enough to give you the proper training, Beau," Archie said out loud. "You'd be no good in a fight, unable to control your instincts, and that would put a bright red bull's-eye on your back. Which we _all know_ —" He rolled his eyes toward me "—would then make Edythe a liability as well, since she'd be doing everything to protect you. She might get hurt."

This seemed to change Beau's mind quickly—a geyser of ice water on his small flame of expectation. My tense muscles relaxed, and I stroked the back of his hand again.

"Not out of fear," I reminded him.

He nodded, but his expression was still troubled.

Archie's face went suddenly blank as a vision of Renee's kitchen shimmered into few. The rays from the sun shone brightly through the window, reflecting off the counter as she picked up the phone and dialed Beau.

 _"I'm sorry, honey, really I am—but we won't be able to make it down for graduation. Phil got a little tangled up on the diamond, demonstrating a slide, and broke his femur. He can barely do anything on his own right now—so you understand why I can't leave him. I'm so sorry, Beau. Call me when you get this."_

As Renee spoke, she rested her palm on the barely convex shape of her lower abdomen.

"Oh," Archie and I both said in surprise as the vision faded.

"Dang," Archie continued casually, "That's a bummer. I hate when people have to cancel. Guess that brings the guest list down to sixty-five…" _Is she pregnant? I could have sworn she's pregnant…_

Beau gawked at Archie, his lips silently forming the words, 'Sixty-five!'.

"Your mom," Archie elaborated. "She was gonna surprise you for grad, but something… Unexpected came up."

Beau furrowed his brow. "Unexpected?"

I shot Archie a warning glance.

"Her message'll be waiting when you get home. She'll call around two."

"Oh."

Archie pressed his lips together, and decided that he couldn't resist. "But that's not the only surprise she has for you."

"Huh?"

He grinned. "You'll see."

Surprisingly, Renee's cancellation only seemed to brighten Beau's mood as the afternoon went on, which surprised me. It was clear he missed his mother. He'd been worrying about her in his sleep— _'No, Mom, stay there. Too dangerous'_ —and emailing her every other day, rather than his usual weekly missive.

His mood only rose higher as he played his mother's message through. When the answering machine cut Renee off mid-apology, Beau was grinning.

"What is it?" I asked, finding a smile on my own face in response to his joy. It was a breath of fresh air, rather than all the anxiety and fear he'd been experiencing lately.

"I never thought I'd be happy about someone's pain." He shrugged. "I couldn't have planned the timing better myself."

I understood his insinuation immediately, and felt my face go blank with castigation. Of course, this would be the last place Beau would want his mother to be in the very near future—with the coming influx of vampires. Once again, Beau was being forced to make sacrifices because of the influence _I_ had on his life. Whether Phil had broken his leg or not, I was sure Beau would have come up with some sort of plan to keep his mother out of town. Either way, she'd be missing his graduation because of _me_ , and it broke my heart. Wasn't this an epoch every mother looked forward to? Watching their child walk across the stage in cap and gown, to receive the formal roll of paper they'd worked so hard toward?

Beau didn't notice the shame on my face. He'd already turned to redial his mother, and now, she was talking a mile a minute on the other line. Beau listened patiently, leaning against the countertop. I sat myself beside him while they chatted.

It was a welcome distraction to listen to Renee's happy voice, detailing the minutiae of her days.

The conversation went on for more than twenty minutes, and finally, Beau told Renee he had to go study for finals.

She apologized one more time—for which Beau interjected, for the eighth time, it was okay—and then paused. I heard her take a breath on the other line, and I perked up. I fixed my eyes intently on Beau's face, anticipating his reaction.

"There _is_ one more thing," she said finally, sounding a little sheepish.

"What's that?"

"Well… I… We…"

"Mom." Beau laughed. "C'mon, spit it out already." He rolled his eyes affectionately and smiled at me.

I was already grinning back. One of his eyebrows arched questioningly, but I only shook my head and gestured toward the phone.

"Well, I never expected this to happen—not that we aren't over the moon about it, but it's just that we weren't prepared, and I wasn't exactly _not_ being careful, but… Well… I'm pregnant!" She finished with a little squeal of excitement, suddenly breathless as she waited for her son's response.

Beau appeared to be completely stunned. Finally, he grinned, and the smile was so genuine, so happy, that my stomach twisted in on itself. "Wow, Mom! That-that's awesome! Congrats!"

Renee giggled. "Thank you, sweetie. I'm about nine weeks along, so just a little over two months in… Things are going well so far, but they want to keep an extra eye on me because I'm apparently a high-risk case due to my age." I didn't miss the undercurrent of stress in her voice, and I didn't think Beau did, either.

"Well—take care of yourself, hey?" Beau said now, "Take all your vitamins, listen to your doctors—no heavy lifting. Once Phil's back on his feet, let him help you out. I know how you are…" His tone was teasingly accusing.

"Oh, yes. Don't you worry about your old mom," Renee assured him. "I'll let you get to your studying."

"Okay, Mom. I'll talk to you soon."

"Yes. I'm sorry, again, that I won't be able to make it… Call me after and tell me everything, okay?"

Beau chuckled. "I'm sure there won't be much to tell, but I will."

"I love you, Beau."

"Love you, too, Mom."

He hung up the phone and then turned to lean against the counter. I appraised his face for a moment, but saw nothing but joy there—turning up the corners of his full lips, shimmering in his eyes like sunlight on the ocean water.

For a moment, I wondered how this would affect his future. Would the impending new addition change his mind whatsoever? I reached for his hand and cradled it underneath my chin.

"What are you thinking?"

He blinked and turned to stare at me. "Wow… I just… Huh. Pregnant."

"I think it came as a surprise to both of you," I divulged, smiling softly.

"Yeah. It's… A shocker. But—I think she's excited."

"I think so, too. How do _you_ feel, though?"

"I'm happy for her, for sure. I mean, it's weird. Hard to picture. But I turned out okay, so she must have done something right with _me_."

We laughed together quietly.

"You knew—didn't you?" he finally accused when the laughter faded.

"Yes. Archie saw it earlier." I hesitated, contemplating sharing my earlier suspicions of Renee's stress, but decided it wouldn't do Beau any good to worry right now. Quickly, I changed the subject. "So, I'll be hunting with Carine, Earnest and Royal tomorrow after school," I informed him. "We'll only be gone a couple of hours—we're staying close. The others will be around to watch out for you."

Beau visibly grimaced, and I knew the idea wasn't his idea of fun. To be perfectly honest, it wasn't mine, either. I hated to leave him for a moment, even if it was simply to run home, refresh my outfit, and retrieve my car for school. But my family worked to remind me that I needed to keep myself strong and fed for him, and I could not deny their rationality. Especially now, staying strong was absolutely compulsory.

"I don't need to be babysat," he grumbled, mostly to himself, as he crossed to the kitchen table and dumped his books out.

"It's only for a few hours," I soothed him, taking a seat at the table as well.

He looked up at me from where he'd been flipping through his Calculus book. "A few hours too long," he said flatly. He turned his attention back to the book and flipped a few more pages before his hand froze, and his expression brightened. "Hey—I haven't been to La Push in awhile…"

I worked to keep my face impassive when he lifted his eyes to look at me expectantly. I reminded myself that there really was no reason not to let him go—other than infantile pettiness and spite for the mangy wolf girl.

"I _would_ be safe there," he stressed.

"Yes, you probably would be," I forced myself to agree. A stomach-churning concoction twisted my innards into envious snarls and rueful knots.

 _You promised,_ I chided myself, _You promised you'd be more objective about this._

It was a painful process, attempting to stifle my prejudices about the wolves. I worked at it for a couple of seconds until Beau lifted his hand and brushed his silky fingers underneath my eye. This distracted me, and all thoughts of Julie Black were vanquished entirely.

"You're thirsty already?" He seemed confused as he scrutinized my face. If anything, Beau was more concerned with my eating habits than _I_ was—always watching out for the first sign of hunger, sure to send me on my way.

"Not particularly," I admitted. His eyebrows pushed together in confusion, and I felt obligated to elaborate. "It's important we keep our strength up. We'll hunt now, and then probably again on the way to Seattle." I wondered if the extra precautions we were taking would worry him.

"That makes you stronger?" he asked, and I searched his face for any sign that he was putting up a brave front, but I could detect nothing but open curiosity, even fascination, in his wide eyes.

"Yes. Human blood makes us the strongest—though only fractionally," I assured him. "Jessamine's been debating cheating, but she won't suggest it. She knows what Carine will say, despite the advantage Jess thinks it would give us."

Both Archie and I had taken on the type of vigilance over her thoughts and decisions in a way we hadn't had to do since Beau had come to Forks. So far, nothing worrying had come up. Jessamine not only knew Carine would react unfavorably, but she also regarded her new life of abstinence from human blood in the way a drug addict would consider himself 'clean'. She didn't want to ruin the progress she'd made, and she had only recently begun to feel like she was _finally_ getting a grip on this lifestyle. It had taken her many, many years to get to this point, and as appealing as the idea was—for multiple reasons—she knew backsliding would serve her no greater purpose.

Realizing what I'd let slip, I quickly looked to Beau again. Apologetic and castigated, I considered apologizing for giving him one more thing to feel cautious about, but he didn't appear affected in the slightest.

"Would that help?" he asked.

"It's not a question," I assured him, "We won't betray the life Carine has worked so hard to make for us." The increased strength was negligible at best, and Jessamine knew this. Besides, we wouldn't be relying on our strength alone in the battle, anyway.

Beau's expression changed, crumpling just the slightest little bit, and I thought I saw something akin to pain flash in his eyes. Quickly, I shifted topics, unwilling to see him dwell over the monstrosity that _wasn't_ going to occur.

"Of course, the human blood is the main contributing factor to the newborns' strength—they're still full of their human essence, reacting to the change. It lingers in their systems, and strengthens them. The effects begin to fade, as Jessamine said, after about a year."

Suddenly, Beau's conflicted expression lightened. Abrupt excitement shone like the sun on his face, electrifying his eyes. That same fascination I'd thought he was crazy for, when we'd first met, was there again. "How strong will _I_ be?" he wanted to know.

Seeing his excitement, the total absence of fear, had me anticipatory of the day he would be untouchable, too. For a single, blissful moment, the fear, the doubt, the guilt, did not touch me—and I only felt the same excitement as Beau.

I grinned. "You'll be stronger than me." I couldn't fight the flicker of desire and relief that coursed through me. He'd be able to hold his own. No one could touch him.

"Stronger than Royal? Eleanor?"

My smile grew exponentially as I imagined this. He was going to be astonishing… "Yes. Do me a favor and challenge her to an arm-wrestling match. It would be a good teaching experience for her." I giggled softly, thinking it was about time El got what she deserved—a good dose of humility.

Beau laughed too, though his chuckle had an air of disbelief.

I didn't blame him. This kind of thing would be impossible for him to fathom until he experienced it for himself.

.

"So, how do you feel you did on your exams?" I asked Beau the next day.

It was just after noon. We had written both our History and Calculus tests this morning, and we were now headed toward the La Push border. I drove more slowly than usual, unwilling to admit how difficult it was for me to relinquish him to the girl.

Beau shrugged. "History wasn't bad, but Calculus actually seemed like it was making sense, which probably means I bombed."

I laughed. "I'm sure you got a perfectly decent grade. But if you're worried, I could bribe Mrs. Varner into giving you an A…"

Beau gave me a look that clearly said, 'Don't you dare'.

I laughed again. "Or not…"

 _I just… I just have to come out and say it. It's not gonna happen any other way… C'mon, girl—just tough it out and say it. How hard can it be? Quit letting your stupid giddy nerves get in the way—there's only so much time left before he…_ She cut the thought short, repressing a shudder. _He_ _ **has**_ _to know he can choose me… I have to show him I'm just as much an option as_ _ **she**_ _is…_ _ **More**_ _!_

My lighthearted mood was abruptly crushed as Julie's thoughts, where she was waiting for us at the line, entered my head.

I tried not to let my sour expression show, pinching my lips together so I wouldn't be tempted to bare my teeth at the girl across the road. She was sitting in the driver's seat of her crappy little Rabbit, her shins pressed against the steering wheel, nervously braiding little sections of her hair.

Uneasy as she was, she was determined to say the words she thought were long overdue.

"What's wrong?" Beau inquired, noticing my expression.

"Nothing," I lied.

 _Has he thought of his dad and his mom—how much this would kill them? His friends from school? If he chose me instead of her, he wouldn't have to give any of that up! He could do whatever he wants, live wherever he wants! He loves me, too; he just doesn't know it yet! I can make him happy…_

Beau glanced between the rusty red car and my face. Finally he said, "What's she saying to you?" He'd reached his own conclusions, which, admittedly, were not far off the mark.

I shook my head, fuming. "It's not me specifically she's speaking to… But I'm sure she'll tell you, anyway."

Beau glanced at Julie again, his lips parting to say something else, but then Julie honked her horn twice, in quick succession.

"That was _hardly_ necessary," I snapped as Beau swung his legs out of the Volvo.

"I'll see you later," he said to me. I wanted to reach out and grip the back of his jacket as he straightened and walked away from me. I didn't _need_ to go hunting today—and with every step he took toward Julie Black, the urge to stay intensified.

 _See you later,_ Julie crooned in her head, waving at me cheekily with two fingers. _Maybe_.

Eager to rid my consciousness of her vile, adulterous thoughts, I turned the car around when Beau was safely in her passenger seat. I was two miles away before I realized he had forgotten the cell phone in my cup holder.

.

To imply it was a struggle to keep my focus on the hunt was an understatement.

I could hardly taste whichever animal I'd let my body do the mechanical work to take down. My thoughts were entirely consumed by what was undoubtedly occurring this afternoon at La Push. Adding my lack of thirst into the equation only made being here more painful.

 _She would tell him she loved him today! She would declare herself!_

I could not stand the torturous distraction of my thoughts. Though I knew Beau deserved to have this choice laid down in front of him, every part of my un-beating heart rebelled against it.

I wanted, with everything inside me, to remain confident in the realization that Beau wanted _me_ , he'd told me just the other day that he wanted to _marry_ me… Hadn't he? But I could not battle back the doubt and the panic that seized my chest and stopped my breathing.

I would be entirely insipid if I believed Julie's words would have no effect on him. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew he loved her. I didn't know how far that love extended—was it merely the love between friends, who'd bonded over difficult times, or was it more than that? Did he desire her physically? Did he see the potential of a future with her—a future he would never be able to have with me?

 _Care to share?_

Jessamine's thoughts startled me from my sullen rumination. I realized I hadn't moved in a number of minutes. The animal carcass I'd drained—which I now realized had been a mule deer—lay still and empty at my feet, his black eyes fixed and staring.

 _I can't imagine what would bring on such… Despair._ Her brows knit in concern as she watched me stoop to pick up the body so it could be disposed of. _Your emotions are so all over the place, I can hardly make sense of them. Rage, jealousy, insecurity, pain…_

I sighed, uprooting a tree with one hand while I balanced the deer on my other shoulder. I tossed the body underneath the roots, into the wet dirt and dropped the tree back into its crevice with a loud thump.

"I left Beau with the wolves today," I told her, though she'd already known this.

She wrinkled her nose. "You did tell him I wouldn't have minded staying behind, didn't you?"

"I did. He insisted on spending the day at La Push… And apparently Julie Black has every intention of making her feelings known today. She wants him to know that… He has a choice. She wants him to choose _her_."

Jessamine considered this. _Oh, Edythe…_ The swell of compassion rose so potently inside her, that I instantly felt the same sympathy, directionless and swirling—because, of course, I could not feel the emotion for myself.

My sister eased her arm around my waist and squeezed. "You have _nothing_ to worry about."

"Don't I?"

Jessamine pulled back to look at me, her eyes a liquid honey gold from her recent feed. "Of course not." She said the words like it was obvious, but I was not as confident.

I shook my head, narrowing my eyes as I stared off into the woods. "I don't see how it's possible not to doubt myself. She _is_ the better choice."

Jessamine cringed. _No way in hell._

"She's half-human." I shrugged. "How can he not see the appeal…? Someone to keep him warm, someone to—eventually—grow old with him… She could bear his children…"

"Edythe," Jessamine whispered, her tone half-chiding, half-sympathetic.

"Of course—she's extremely dangerous as well. Her nature is undeniably volatile, her temper unchecked… But I have to admit that her self-control is unprecedented. I've never come across a shape-shifter so in control of her transformations… And what makes it worse, is that I'm beginning to conclude that much of that restraint stems from her feelings for him. Each time I've witnessed her come close to phasing, she thinks of him, and she just… Lets it go.

"She works very hard not to be a danger to him… Where his safety is concerned, I'm forced to admit that I trust her. I _loathe_ her, but… I trust her."

Jessamine was quiet, pulling me close again. She pressed her cheek to the top of my head. "Trust me: I know better than anyone the strength of his devotion to you. For a mere human, the capacity with which he loves you is matchless. If he loves this girl"— _If…_ _ **IF**_ **—** "his affections for her come nowhere near what he feels for you. Emotions are tricky things, but I know enough of the relational bond between you to know you're to be mated for life."

She wondered over her next statement, pondering how best to word it.

 _For every emotion, there seems to be a counter-emotion. For one to feel anger, they must feel an absence of tranquility. For one to feel grief, they must also know joy. But love… Love has no concession. It is an emotion of its own. It stands alone, and it requires us to give nothing. It is a gift._ "Beau has given you that gift, and I don't believe he has any intention of rescinding it."

I sighed, wanting very much to believe her as I inclined my head to rest on her shoulder.

.

"Would you mind, very much, if I went home early?"

I spoke the words many minutes later. Jessamine and I had not moved from our sisterly embrace, though every fiber of my being was straining to run back to Forks this instant.

"There isn't much use for you staying," she conceded, "You've hunted; you've done what's been required of you."

"You'll tell the others—why I had to leave so abruptly?"

Jessamine smiled softly. "Of course I will. Now go—wait at the boundary line like the lovesick teenager you are."

She squeezed my hand once before I propelled myself away from my family, and back toward the boy I loved—and hoped was still mine.

As I gathered my car and started toward La Push, I did the best I could to bring myself to believe all Julie's confession would do was create a sticking block between them. I hoped the awkwardness this would incite would be enough to sway Beau from wanting to go back again.

I was nearly to Forks' town limit when my cell phone rang.

"Beau," I answered on the first tone. "You left the phone in the car… Did Julie give you a ride home?"

"Uh huh," he responded, and there was something gruff in his voice that immediately put me on edge. "Will you do me a favor?"

Yes, there was definitely something wrong. "Of course. Is something wrong?" I asked nervously. There was more than an edge to his voice—more than frustrated awkwardness.

 _What had she_ _ **done**_?

"Since I've been brought up never to punch a girl, I was wondering if you would come and do it for me."

I was so stunned by his request that my foot let off the gas for an instant. "That doesn't sound like you," I told him warily.

Beau gave a short, hard laugh—completely void of humor. "Probably because I don't get this pissed every day. Are you coming?"

"I'm on my way," I assured him.

In the background I heard Julie hiss, "How'd she take it?" She was obviously putting on a show, and I felt my free hand clench around the steering wheel at the sound of her smug voice. It must have been something serious to make Beau so angry.

"Take what?" I demanded, my voice harder than I meant it to be.

Beau said coldly, "She kissed me."

If there had been blood in my veins, it would have been boiling. Murderous rage swept, without hesitation, through me, setting every fight instinct on red alert. How _dare_ she?!

Obviously the gesture had been entirely one-sided, judging by the anger in Beau's voice, and though it might have brought me relief, knowing the kiss had been entirely against his will only spurred the anger on.

"I'm around the corner," I told him, and hung up the phone.

A moment later, I screeched to a stop in front of the house. I didn't know if I had the wherewithal to be inside Chief Swan's very breakable house, so I forced myself to wait outside. I had _every_ intention of teaching Julie a very painful, very _thorough_ lesson, and I didn't think it would serve Charlie well to see me lose control in his living room.

But when Beau opened the door, all the fight went out of me. His eyes were soft and kind, full of love for me, but unfortunately, this wasn't what I saw first.

His nose—oh, his beautiful nose… It was swollen and beginning to bruise, and he held a towel underneath it to staunch the bleeding.

Automatically, my body locked down in response—before I realized the reflex was more out of habit than anything else. I could smell his blood, and it stabbed my throat, but that was the extent of it.

No hunting instinct, no fight or flight conundrum.

He descended the front steps, and relieved that I was truly immune now and that the only instincts that rose inside me were compassionate, I flitted to his side.

"Let me see," I murmured, reaching up for the towel.

Beau, automatically pulling back, said, "No—it's okay. It's still bleeding."

I would have laughed softly—he felt the need to tell me so? He didn't realize I could smell it? "I know," I said, "Let me look."

I pulled the towel down, keeping it pressed between his upper lip and nostrils, so I could examine the bridge of his nose. With the barest of pressure, I touched my fingertips to his nasal bone, regarding the swelling and the vicious bruising rising underneath his luculent skin. Thankfully, there was no open wound, and no obvious deformity.

"Your nose isn't crooked," I informed him lowly, "But I think you're right about the break."

At that moment, Julie traipsed out the front door, and skipped down the porch steps.

"Hey, girl," she cried mockingly, "It's been too long! How was lunch with the fam?"

"Why is he _bleeding_?" I hissed, whirling on her.

Julie rolled her eyes. "Because he's an idiot."

"I didn't know idiocy caused people to start spontaneously bleeding from the nose," I snapped scathingly.

"I think it's a new phenomenon."

My tolerance had been pushed to its limit, and I took one aggressive step toward her. At the same time that I felt Beau's hand loop around my arm, Charlie appeared in the doorway.

"Now, now," he chided, almost playfully. The amusement was clear in his mind. "I don't want any fighting."

Despite the obviousness of his humor, I forced myself to take him seriously. Of course, he couldn't know just how serious the situation could quickly become. And Julie was only standing a few feet in front of him.

"Of course not. I wouldn't dream of it, Chief," I assured him, and then reached up to touch Beau's fingers—still locked around my arm. He let go immediately, and I wove my fingers through his.

 _Of course not,_ Julie mocked me in high falsetto, _I wouldn't dream of it, Chief… Blech. You're so fake it makes me sick._

Studiously, I ignored her. "Let's go have Carine take a look at your nose," I urged Beau, turning toward my car. We hadn't taken two steps down the drive when I heard Julie begin to follow. I felt the muscles in my shoulders tense, uncomfortable with having my back to her. I focused on Beau and only Beau. "So what _did_ happen to your nose?" I tried to ask casually.

"Like I said," Julie piped up from behind us, "Beau's an idiot."

I felt my teeth grind together, swallowing back the acid.

"Nah," she continued, and snorted a laugh, "He smashed his nose trying to yank open my car door. He was _real_ pissed." She remembered the moment in acute detail, and I cringed as I watched Beau's head snap back. The blood gushed almost immediately from his nostrils.

 _"Wow, Beau,"_ Julie had said, _"You really_ _ **are**_ _a klutz."_

"He should really be more careful," Julie chided softly as we reached the car.

Behind her, Charlie had gone back inside, but he was peeking through the drapes in the front room.

I turned to face her, forcing my posture to stay amicable, relaxed, my facial expression friendly, knowing we had an audience.

"I don't think Beau is the one who needs to watch himself," I said to her, and though my face didn't give it away, the words were cold and calculating.

"Oooh." Julie wiggled her fingers in the air. "I'm so scared."

"I'm not going to kill you now," I continued, ignoring her, "because it would upset Beau."

Behind me, Beau scoffed quietly.

"But if you ever force yourself upon him against his will again, I _will_ hurt you. I don't have to kill you to teach you a lesson." Then I added thoughtfully, "You know, most species bare their teeth as a threat, as a display of aggression and leadership… It's a reminder that these clenched jaws _can and will open your yielding throat_ ; I want you to think of that the next time I smile." And then, very deliberately, I flashed all of my teeth at her.

Julie rolled her eyes obnoxiously, but I could hear the trace of fear slither through her mind as she processed my words—knowing I could snap her human form in half easily.

"And if he wants me to kiss him?"She pictured it in her mind for an instant, a fairytale image of him pulling her into his arms on the rocky First Beach at sunset, a sun flare exploding between their faces the instant before their lips touched.

"I'd advise you wait for his go-ahead—instead of relying on your asinine analysis of body language."

Beau snorted. "As if."

Julie's cocky smirk remained affixed to her face, but I could hear the fear and doubt in her mind: _Have I lost him for good now? Did I do something really stupid?_ It wasn't lost on her just how angry he was with her. Fleetingly, the moment of their kiss flashed through her mind, tinted with an aura of humiliation. He hadn't kissed her back, had barely responded to her advance.

For a moment, I felt pity for her. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to love him, and not have that love in return.

 _"I won't stop fighting."_ Julie recalled her own words, spoken to him just moments before she'd kissed him. _"Until the day your heart stops beating—I'll be here, doing everything I can to change your mind. To remind you that you have a_ _ **choice**_ _."_

The memory was clear in her mind now, as if she were remembering it for my sake. But there was something she maybe wasn't aware of: I _had_ given Beau his options. I'd left every choice up to him—from the very beginning. And he had chosen _me_. Me, my family, and _this life._ He'd made up his mind, and in this moment, never had I been more sure of his choice. He was mine, and I was his—the rest of forever stretched out in front of us.

I half-turned back toward Julie. "Oh, Julie?"

Her mouth twisted in reply.

"Just one more thing before we go… You should know I never have and never will take Beau for granted, and I'll be fighting for him, too…"

"Good. I like a good fight." A profusion of images spilled forth from her mind, all the different strategies she'd been planning to convince Beau to change his mind with. Some of them were less than civilized.

She smiled insouciantly as I flinched.

"I never said I'd fight fair," I said coolly.

With that, I tugged Beau to the car. As we slid in, Julie leaned in through the open passenger window.

"I had fun today; see you later." Beau didn't look at her. She tried her best to ignore the hurt in her thoughts, but it invariably slipped, and the guilt twisted her features for a moment, which Beau didn't see.

 _I'm an idiot. Why would I say that?_

"Sorry about your nose," she added sincerely, "I hope it's not broken."

I didn't have the patience for this, and put the car in drive, forcing her to retreat and step back, lest she wanted her foot crushed by my tire… Which I wouldn't have objected to, in the least. Of course, it would probably heal in an hour, but it would still _hurt_.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Beau as we pulled away from the house.

"Pissed," he muttered sullenly, the bloody rag fisted in his lap now. His nose had stopped bleeding sometime over the course of our conversation, but some of it had coagulated on the skin under his nostrils. There was a smear of it on his perfect chin, and a few more smudges on his hands.

"I meant your nose."

"Oh." He shrugged. "It's nothing. I've had worse."

"That's true," I conceded, the stabbing pain of guilt twisting in my side when I remembered how much pain he'd been through because of my involvement in his life. Joss's unspeakable tortures… The injuries from his birthday party… Not to mention the heartbreak and grief I'd forced upon him when I'd left…

Beau remained quiet for the remainder of our journey to the house, and I didn't know if this made me feel better or worse about the situation. I knew the male population weren't much for confiding their feelings, but I remembered that I still didn't know how he'd taken Julie's declaration.

I could only hope he'd refused her, seconds before she'd leaned in to kiss him, but how could I know for certain? Had the kiss been a last, desperate attempt, or had he given her reason to believe he _wanted_ her to kiss him? And if he did… Would he want it again?

However, his anger over the situation would make no sense if he had. The rational part of my mind reinforced the confidence that I had nothing to worry about.

But irrational curiosity has a way of eating away at one's confidence, and I couldn't be exactly sure.

When we pulled into the garage, Eleanor and Royal were there. Eleanor had taken a particular off-roading path a little hard, and had cracked something on her Jeep's frame. Royal was lying underneath the vehicle, fixing whatever she'd broken, while El acted as the jack.

Easily distracted, Eleanor noticed Beau's bruised and swelling nose right away when we got out of the car.

 _Oooh, this has_ _ **got**_ _to be good…_ she thought, and grinned in anticipation. "Aw, little buddy," she teased, "Did you fall down again?"

Beau, not in the mood for her teasing apparently, didn't respond.

 _Wow,_ El thought as he stormed past her, _The cold shoulder. That's a new one._

I glared at her, silently begging her to drop it.

"Or maybe you tripped into a doorway," she continued to speculate, seeing and ignoring my pointed glower.

"Nope," Beau finally responded without glancing over his shoulder as he headed for the door, "This is just what happens when a werewolf forces herself on you."

Eleanor blinked, stunned. _Huh?_

 _Kid's got a bit of a temper,_ Royal thought, and then out loud he said, "Jessamine's going to win the bet."

 _No way,_ Eleanor thought nervously, eyes flickering to Beau's angry face as he—dammit—paused, and glanced at them over his shoulder.

"Bet?"

I groaned quietly, and planted my hand on his lower back. "Let's get Carine to take a look at your nose," I urged futilely as I shot my sister a warning look. _For the love of God… Please, not now…_ I begged her silently.

But of course, Beau wouldn't be deterred. He anchored his feet and turned fully to face my siblings. "No—I wanna know what bet this is we're talking about."

" _We're_ not talking about anything," I insisted, tugging on his hand, but he resisted.

"Eleanor?" Beau turned his expectant gaze on my sister.

 _Don't you dare_. I glared viciously at her, and stepped in front of Beau. "It's _nothing_ ," I maintained, "Eleanor and Jessamine like to do a little wagering in their spare time, is all… It's infantile."

Beau arched his eyebrow at me.

I groaned. I knew there was no way out of this and I chose my words carefully. "They're betting on how many times you'll… Err in your first year."

Beau's expression went blank, and I regarded him cautiously. "Like, how many people I'll kill?" he finally said, struggling to remain casual, but I could see the blood draining from his face.

"Royal thinks your temper will turn the odds in Jessamine's favor."

"Temper?" Beau repeated dubiously, "I don't have a temper. I'm just, y'know, reasonably ticked that Jules kissed me without my permission."

 _What?!_ Eleanor thought, caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. _Now, THIS is a story I gotta hear._

She quickly wedged the jack underneath the Jeep in favor of her arm, and stood, wiping her hands on her jeans as she started to follow us toward the house.

We'd walked a couple yards when Beau said, "Jessamine's betting pretty high then, hey?" I couldn't fathom why he should sound a little smug about this.

Eleanor rolled her eyes, falling in step next to Beau. _She just wants to feel better about herself, is all._ "Jess is fed up with being the weakest link," she told him now.

Beau considered this. "Well, I _guess_ I could throw in a couple extra murders if it would make Jessamine feel better," he said offhandedly, but I could see the familiar expression of concentration on his face, and I knew that this troubled him.

I squeezed his hand, ready to lose it on my brother for bringing this up. If I had been anywhere near as immature as my sisters, I would have bet on Beau having a perfect scorecard. Suddenly, I was anxious to get to Carine—knowing she'd be able to assuage his anxieties better than I would be able to. She was living proof that slip-upswere not a guarantee to new vampires.

"You have nothing to worry about," I assured him. I _would_ look out for him. I would do everything I could to guide him through those first uneasy months.

Beau made a sound somewhere between disagreement and discontent as we walked into the house, where Carine and Archie were already waiting.

 _You silly girl,_ Archie chided me, _Of course you had nothing to worry about. Listen to Jess next time, will you? She knows what's she's talking about… Sorry he's hurt though._

"Me, too," I muttered as I followed Beau and Carine into her office.

She had everything she needed on hand. Much of this equipment she hadn't kept at home before Beau had come along. I knew he would be embarrassed by this fact if he'd known about it. There had never been any need, aside from the times she'd brought bits and pieces of work home with her, but now it was practically required.

She examined his nose succinctly, making mental notes in her head as she went along.

 _Respiratory status is good, no sign of mucosal laceration or septal deformity… No depression of the dorsum—good…_

She palpitated his nasal bone, surmising she felt the barest of fissures, and then prodded his mandibles, cervical spine and orbits.

I watched as she went about her work with a small, satisfactory smile on her face. Helping people was something Carine loved to do, even after all these years.

 _If it's a break, it's very minimal,_ she assured me.

"How long did your nose bleed for, Beau?" she asked him.

"Uh, I dunno. Off and on for fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes?"

"Any clear fluid leaking from your nose at any point in time?"

"Not that I noticed."

"Any dizziness, difficulty seeing straight, or pain anywhere else, like in your neck or head?"

"Nope."

"Alright, then. I'll just examine your eyes, but I think the fracture is minimal."

She shone her flashlight in his eyes, had him read off a chart, and then concluded her examination.

 _I didn't see any signs of CSF rhinorrhea, extraoccular abnormalities, or malocclusion, so radiography shouldn't be necessary…_ "So, you should expect the swelling and bruising to increase overnight," she informed him as she put her tools away, "But it should go down within the week. I want you to rest as much as possible, sleep with your head elevated and take pain medication if necessary. In fact…" She crossed to her desk and retrieved her prescription pad, knowing Beau would protest, but going ahead with it anyway, "I'm going to write you a prescription for something right now. Edythe can go and pick it up when we're done here."

She tore the top piece of paper from her pad and handed it to me. Then she looked up at Beau again.

"If your nose starts to bleed again, or you have any numbness, tingling, changes in your vision or difficulty breathing, I want to see you here right away again, okay?"

"Sure."

"I'll want to follow up with you in a few days, just to make sure things are healing properly, but you shouldn't have any trouble. The nasal fracture is very minimal and you should be as good as new by the end of the week, if not, two." She smiled at him. "Any questions?"

It took him a second to respond to her, and I looked up at him, expecting him to be looking at Carine, but instead, his eyes were fixed on my face.

"No, I'm all good," he muttered quietly to her, but didn't remove his gaze from me. There was something there in his eyes, some thought that was too deep and complex for me to reach, or read clearly on his face.

Something in his eyes, a strange sort of longing I'd never witnessed before, twisted my stomach. We stared at each other for a number of moments, until I realized that Carine had left the room.

Finally, I took the necessary steps to cross the room to him, and slid my arms around his waist, resting my head on his shoulder. "What are you thinking?" I whispered.

He shook his head, and brushed his fingers through my hair. "Nothing."

.

 **A/N:** So… *peeks out nervously* this one was quite a bit different from the original… Hehe… I hope it went over okay with you guys. I know I didn't HAVE to break Beau's nose, but… Y'know. I like the drama. Bite me.

Umm—also a major change from the original: Renee? Pregnant? Yeah. Betcha didn't see that one coming. ;)

Let me know your thoughts on this one, since it was so different from the original! See you next time, lovelies! xo


	13. Graduation

**A/N:** Another little humorous respite at the beginning here for ya, inspired by SM's 'Narcotics' outtake from New Moon ;)

.

I ran to the pharmacy as soon as Carine was finished with her examination to pick up the Percocet prescription she'd written for Beau. He was sitting on the couch, sandwiched between Archie and Eleanor, ice pack over his nose, when I returned. I quickly retrieved a glass of water, and to my surprise, he took the pills without complaint.

He must have been in a fair amount of pain, because he had me stop for frozen pizzas on the way home. In his little kitchen, he chucked the pies unceremoniously into the oven and then slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

He stared out the window for a moment, where it had begun to rain softly, and tilted his head forward to catch it in his palms. He groaned quietly.

"Are you alright?" I asked, by his side at once.

To my surprise, he began to laugh—almost hysterically.

I felt my face twist into an expression of confusion. "Beau?" I said.

"I can't… Believe… She kissed me!" he gasped between his fits.

I examined his face, his flushed cheeks, and his eyes, which were hazy and just a little hysterical. "Beau, have you ever taken Percocet before?"

His laughter continued. "Don't think so," he guffawed, "How come?"

I rolled my eyes, and this seemed to strike him as hilarious. Leave it to Beau to experience the rare side effects of Percocet…

"How's your nose?" I inquired.

"I can't feel it. Is it still there?" Suddenly panic-stricken, he lifted a hand toward his face. I quickly caught his wrist before he could do more damage to his already injured nose.

"Carefully," I warned him, pulling his knuckles to my lips.

He laughed harder at this.

Charlie came to stand in the doorway, and folded his arms across his chest. "What'd she give 'im?" he wondered.

"Percocet," I replied.

Charlie lifted his eyebrows. "Pretty strong stuff," he noted.

Beau snorted now. "I'm fiiiiiine," he insisted, and lifted his palm in front of his face, suddenly fascinated by whatever he saw there. "Whoa…" he whispered, wide-eyed.

"Beau, why don't you go lay down? I can finish up these pizzas."

Beau snorted, and looked at his father with suddenly very serious eyes. He jabbed a finger at him. " _Don't_ burn down the house." He burst into laughter again as Charlie sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I'll never live that down, will I?" he grumbled to himself, and I wondered, idly, what I'd missed on those many evenings spent between father and son.

Now, I pulled Beau out of his seat. "Come on," I urged, steadying him as he stumbled, "Let's get you lying down."

"I don't _wanna_ ," he complained as I guided him toward the living room. If Beau was clumsy at his best, while high he was as uncoordinated as a blindfolded, drunken mule. Glad that Charlie was still in the kitchen, I supported most of his weight, essentially carrying him toward the couch.

He was looking at his hand again as I pushed him down to sit, swung his legs up onto the sofa, and pushed on his chest.

"My head is spinning," he said, "Like a merry-go-round… Just spinning, spinning, spinning…"

"Put your head down," I cajoled him, pushing gently.

"Okay." He flung his head backward, knocking it hard against the armrest. I flinched, but for him, this seemed to inspire the laughter again.

He was still laughing when I zipped upstairs to grab the pillow from his bed, and then returned, lifted his shoulders, and situated it under his head.

I sat on the floor beside him and ran my fingers through his hair. He turned wide, flabbergasted eyes on me.

"What?"

"You're _fast_!"

I attempted to stifle my amused smirk. "Yes," I told him, "I am. And you're high."

"Psshh! Noo!" he protested, "I am not…" He rocked his head back and forth, squinting at the TV for a moment, and then turned his eyes back on me. " _Whoa_ ," he said again, "You are… _Beautiful_."

It was nearly impossible to regard him seriously. "Thank you," I said quietly.

"No—" he insisted, propping himself up on one elbow, reaching for my face but missing. "I mean it. You're the prettiest girl I've ever laid eyes on."

I smoothed a hand over his forehead. "Close your eyes, Beau, and try to get some rest."

For a moment, he obeyed, closing his eyes, though the wide, dorky smile did not fade from his face. I watched him, stroking his features as he laid in silence for a moment.

Then his eyes opened with a flash. "You know what?" he said.

I rested my chin on my knees, which I'd pulled to my chest, and gazed at him adoringly. "What, Beau?"

"I think we should get married."

I laughed. "I think you need to sleep it off."

"I love you," he said, his eyes glassy and almost feverish. "Marry me. I'm the luckiest guy in the world, and I wanna marry you."

I smiled, exhaling gently. "I love you, too, but I don't think you're in the correct frame of mind to be asking for my hand, right now. Get some sleep." I leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

He sighed and muttered once more, "I love you."

As he drifted steadily toward unconsciousness, he whispered the declaration a couple more times, littered with miniscule fits of laughter. Finally, he fell silent.

Charlie returned to the living room with a plate of pizza and slumped heavily into the armchair.

"Don't think he'll be taking anymore of those," he said.

"No," I agreed.

.

The next morning, Beau pressed the bottle of pills into my hand and asked if I would return them to Carine. Then he popped two extra strength Tylenol, complaining of a headache.

"That doesn't surprise me," I told him, "You probably have a hangover."

He threw me a dubious look as he swallowed the pills down. "Yeah, right."

"You should have heard yourself last night," I said, grinning. "The ramblings of the insane." I attempted to make a joke of it, though I wondered if he remembered his inebriated proposal. He didn't seem to, and I had to wonder whether that was a good thing, or bad.

I did my best to force the occurrences of Friday night to the back of my mind as the remainder of the weekend passed without further incident. After all, didn't I have much more important things to think about?

The situation in Seattle… Beau's graduation… Victor, and Sulpicia…

None of these topped my anxiety over Beau's coming transformation—I looked forward to the day with as much hesitation as I did anticipation.

The fact that he seemed to remain angry with Julie Black helped ease some of my worries about his commitment.

 _He just needs time,_ it seemed I was continually reminding myself, _There's a lot going on right now. Give him some time…_

Time… Time that we _never_ had enough of.

Time that seemed to be slipping by faster and faster, gathering momentum as it went.

Before I knew it, it was the day of graduation, and I was staring into the back of my closet, where a rainbow of graduation robes hung. Red, blue, green, purple, yellow. I snatched the canary yellow robes off their hanger and then headed for my car.

When I arrived at his house, Beau looked dapper in the slacks and collared shirt I'd had Archie bring him earlier. But he also looked nervous, jittery as we stood in the front hallway waiting for Charlie to find his keys.

He'd insisted on driving his son to graduation, and Beau had agreed, if I could ride with them.

There wasn't much opportunity for conversation in the car, as Charlie kept up an uncharacteristic stream of consciousness the entire way.

I assumed Beau was nervous as we pulled into the school parking lot, but when we got out of the car, I was surprised to see his face had lost several shades of color, and his eyes were nearly wild with edginess.

"Are you okay?" I whispered as we fell into step on our way to the gym. "You're very pale." I reached up to touch his pallid cheek.

He started to shake his head, I was sure to insist he was fine, when Charlie shoved himself between us and draped his arm over his son's shoulder.

"So—grad! You excited?"

"Sure," Beau replied unconvincingly.

Charlie laughed. "Nerves are normal. This is a pretty big deal; graduating from high school, out on your own…" For a moment, Charlie was overcome with how quickly the last couple years had gone by. Suddenly, he was feeling very old.

I was surprised by the tenderness that rose inside him. His son had seemed to grow into a man right before his very eyes, and I sensed a flicker of regret in his mind—unable to place it precisely.

I wanted to pull him aside before we had to assemble for the procession, to find out what was bothering him—he was so pale, his hands shaking, that I was certain this wasn't _just_ about graduation. But the bedlam made it impossible to find time to talk. I squeezed his hand as he gave me a weary look before Coach Clapp sent him toward the back of the line.

I took my place behind Rianne Collins, stretching on my toes to search the crowd for Archie. Perhaps he'd be able to tell me what was bothering Beau.

However, we were forced to proceed with the ceremony without Archie's addition. He didn't show up until the very last minute, fitting himself expertly just in front of me before Principal Greene called our names. He remained with his back turned to me, and I scanned his thoughts cursorily for an idea of where he'd been, and what was going on, I was surprised to find he wasn't even thinking in English. Immediately, I was suspicious. He only ever did this when he was thought-blocking me.

Archie sauntered across the dais to retrieve his diploma from Principal Greene and pause for the obligatory picture, and then he descended the steps on the other side, and disappeared through the exit.

Trying to push my skepticism and annoyance aside, I turned my focus on the continuing parade of students moving across the stage. Many students back, I fixed my eyes on Beau, standing behind Jeremy Stanley. Since situating himself in line, he'd donned his robes and hat, and an unerring, wide grin stretched itself across my face, despite the uncertainty of today's occurrences.

Beau had worked hard to maintain good grades, despite the supernatural hauntings that had preoccupied his high school career. A sudden surge of pride welled in my chest. Undeterred by the things that had seemed so much larger than him, he'd persisted…

On top of the good grades, he'd managed to make a few good _human_ friends. Allen, Becca, even McKayla, wanted the best for him in this next phase of his life.

"Beaufort Swan," Principal Greene called, and of course, his face flushed bright red as he climbed the steps to the stage—keeping his eyes carefully fixed on his feet as he ascended.

I listened with pride to the thoughts swirling around me as students and parents alike watched him cross the dais. There was excitement, there was satisfaction, there was nostalgia. And for the first time, I found myself experiencing some of the same emotions.

I would not miss the monotony, the boredom, high school regularly incited. But the last two years had been life-changing for me. This particular high school experience had brought Beau to me, and I would forever be grateful for that.

This would forever be the place we'd met, fallen in love, and achieved victory, despite the odds that had been stacked against our favor.

As his hand closed around his diploma, I felt a surge of emotion that caught in my throat. Whatever happened from here on out, Beau had achieved this one human experience.

When the ceremony ended in an eruption of cheers and a flurry of yellow hats, I made my way through the crowds toward Beau. He still seemed distracted, searching the crowds for someone, I assumed.

He didn't see me at first as I stretched up on my toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Congratulations," I murmured, my voice low with emotion.

"Um, thanks. You, too," he said, still distracted as his eyes skipped over the people in the crowds, touching on one face and then quickly moving, unsatisfied, to the next.

"Who are you looking for?"

"Archie—I thought I saw him…"

"You did. He received his diploma, and then left right away…" I frowned toward the gym door, the suspicion suddenly center stage again. With a sinking feeling, I wondered if Beau's distractibility and Archie's avoidance were somehow related.

What was he hiding from me…?

"Huh. Weird." My eyes flashed back to Beau's face when his voice cracked. He swallowed nervously, his eyes still skirting mine, though there couldn't be anyone left for him to search for… And his heart was suddenly flying.

I regarded him, frowning. "Yes. He was acting quite strange, actually—translating the Battle Hymn of the Republic into Arabic, and then Korean sign language…"

"Weird," Beau said again, still skittish, and his pulse tripped and stuttered.

Why did I suddenly have the very unsettling feeling that I was being left in the dark here?

"He only does that when he's trying to hide something from me," I continued evenly, listening to the spike in his heart rate, and as I watched, the tips of his ears began to turn red.

"Wonder what that could be."

"You know what it is," I accused, narrowing my eyes at him.

He opened his mouth, maybe to lie again, but then seemed to decide against it. "Yeah," he admitted.

I waited for him to elaborate, sure now that the two were conspiring against me. The frustration bubbled behind my chest, fizzing into my throat with a tinge of panic. I stared at him, willing him to put me out of my misery.

"This is no time for secrets," I finally hinted.

"I think Archie wanted to wait until after the party to tell you," he said, and this had my back up.

I folded my arms and cocked an eyebrow at him.

He sighed, giving in. "Just… Don't freak out, okay?" Of course, these words had me immediately panicking. But I nodded anyway. "Okay… Well… You see, I kinda had this epiphany sort of thing when Archie came to give me the clothes… I think we were wrong, thinking all the different things were a coincidence … I think there's just one side, and it all ties in together. I think the person who's messing with Archie's vision must have sent someone into my room as a test, to see if they could get around him. And then—the thing with my clothes; I think they must have taken them so they could track me—I think I've been the target this whole time…"

I felt my face go white. Immediately, I wanted to argue against the point he was making—that something this immense could not possibly be meant for a single person—but when had Beau attracted even the _usual_ amount of danger? Since when had _anything_ in his life gone the most direct, least obstructive, route?

"But this helps, right? Knowing what they really want—and really, it's good news. This means they're not coming after you and your family. No one wants to hurt you."

I was speechless, baffled. I could see that he was right, but his finishing statement had me whirling. _Good news?_ How could _Beau being in danger_ possibly be _good news_?!

I felt my mind began to fracture, buckling underneath the weight of more hysteria than I knew how to make sense of. I could hardly see straight through the panic that had suddenly overtaken me, sweeping me up in its steely clutches, drowning me.

Vaguely, through the roar, I felt Beau's hand on my cheek. He said something, but I couldn't hear the words.

Charlie appeared, clapping his son on the shoulder. His lips moved as he said something to him—I couldn't hear those words, either.

I wondered which emotions were showing on my face as I stood with my hands half-raised, frozen in the air. More than ever before, I wanted to snatch Beau up and run him out of here—out of town, out of the state, maybe even to a different country if it would keep him safe from the rabid _mob_ of newborns that were intent on his murder!

And suddenly I was angry—very angry. Furious.

This was one human experience I thought he'd have, in the midst of everything that was happening… But, behold, this day had been ruined for him, too! The indignant righteousness flared in my chest, and I could feel my eyes narrow as the hatred burned.

 _Let them come! I would destroy them!_

As Charlie half turned toward me, his thoughts expectant, I realized he'd asked me a question. I milled through his thoughts for the answer to whatever he'd inquired, but could only sense his half-hearted suspense.

I assumed he had invited me to whichever post-graduation celebration he and Beau would be off to— _No! I could not let him out of my sight!_

"No, thank you," I managed to tell him, "My parents are expecting me."

Charlie seemed surprised by the lack of civility in my voice, but I couldn't quite bring myself to don the human façade my family and I usually worked so hard to uphold. Before I did something to betray myself further, I decided I had to remove myself from the premises, and get myself back in control.

"If you'll please excuse me," I said, and I could hear that my tone was still clipped. I whirled abruptly and headed toward the exit, aware I was moving just a little too fast than was normal, but unable to bring myself to ease my frenetic pace.

I pushed too hard through the metal door, leaving a dent in the metal push-handle with the heels of my hands. Outside, the clouds had thickened, and I lifted my face gratefully to the gently falling droplets of water, taking a few steadying breaths.

How could I let myself be so _idiotic_? Why had _none of us_ seen this coming?! Whoever this 'mastermind' was, I would get my hands on her, and I would _finish_ her…!

Through the tornado of my furious thoughts, Eleanor's mental voice reached my ears. She was in the forest just beyond the school, patrolling the area for any sign of danger.

 _Jessamine's running a circuit around town. You're good to run home quick and talk to the 'rents._

I shook my head once. "I'm not going anywhere."

I pulled my robes off and yanked my cell out of my pocket.

"Thanks for keeping me in the loop," I snapped viciously at Archie once I had him on the other line.

I could practically hear his eyes roll, and could not bite back my low hiss of panicked frustration. "Look, Edy, we all know your tendency to completely blow things out of proportion… Beau and I thought it best to keep you out of the know for now. I was gonna tell you eventually, anyway. What difference does a couple of hours make, after all?"

I couldn't think of a coherent response. My lips parted and shut a few times before I resigned to silence.

"I'm sure El already told you, but she'll keep an eye on Beau for now, and Jessamine's running a precautionary lap around the town limits—but I'm telling you, there's nothing to worry about today."

"Nothing to worry about," I repeated flatly.

"Look—nothing's changed except that now we know what they want. Beau's right—it's a _good_ thing."

"Stop saying that!"

"Now that we know their motive, it'll almost be too busy."

"So that's your plan?" I demanded scathingly, raking a furious hand through the long ringlets of my hair, which I'd styled for the occasion. "You're just going to use Beau as bait, and let them come here?"

There was an instant of silence on the other end, and I knew I'd offended him. Instantly, guilt raked her claws through me, and I sighed.

"I'm sorry—that wasn't fair to say."

"Edy, it's okay," he assured me, "I know you're scared. I am, too. But we're _ready_. Training plans are still on for tonight, and like I said, we've still got a few days to prepare. Now that I know what they want, I'll be able to see them easier."

"Hopefully," I barked.

"Hopefully," he amended regretfully. "Look—if worst comes to worst, at least you'll hear them coming."

"That's true," I breathed, just a tiny bit placated by that knowledge. With the sliver of clarity this insight instilled, I realized there were certain advantages to being able to fight in our own territory—terrain we were familiar with, and most likely, we'd be able to catch them before they reached town limits.

But how was I going to keep Beau safe throughout it all?

"Charlie and Beau are going to come outside in two minutes, so if you'll be following them to the Lodge, I'd appreciate if you could let me go so I can get back to setting the party up."

This surprised me. "You're not cancelling?" I demanded.

"What's the point?" I could almost see him shrug in his cavalier way. "It's too late to cancel now."

I sighed, unable to conceive a counterpoint. "Fine," I relented, "I'll see you there."

"Later!"

I met up with Eleanor in the forest, and she fell into step with me as I trailed the police cruiser to the restaurant on the south side of town.

"You can go now," I told her as I settled into the shadows to wait.

My sister regarded me carefully. _Are you sure you've got ahold of yourself?_

I rolled my eyes, annoyed. "Just _go_. I'm fine."

 _You know what would really help take the edge off?_ she teased.

"Go home!" I practically shouted at her, but she wasn't affronted in the slightest.

Laughing, she practically skipped off into the inky shadows. "See ya later, sex kitten!"

"That's _not_ my name!" I shouted after her, but she was already gone.

.

It was over an hour later before Beau emerged from the cacophony of the restaurant. Many other graduates and their guests were celebrating at the Lodge as well, and Charlie was uncharacteristically caught up in conversation with some of the other parents. Their shared experiences gave them a lot to talk about, apparently.

"The party doesn't start yet, does it?" I heard Charlie ask Beau from inside.

"No—but I should help Archie set up," Beau said glumly. "It's kind of… My party, too." Why did it sound like these words were painful for him to say?

Charlie chuckled. "So _that's_ why you're dreading it."

"Doesn't mean I can't still be responsible," Beau muttered.

A second later, Charlie turned to wrap up his conversation with the other parents, and Beau pushed through the front door of the restaurant, the lights catching in his hair.

He folded his arms across his chest and looked up at the sky as he crossed the lot to stand by the cruiser to wait for his father.

Standing downwind as I was, it was only half a second before his scent carried to me—coinciding spikes of pleasure and agony, as always. Soon, I thought with a hint of sadness, it would no longer torture me. Soon, his heart would stop beating.

Suddenly aware of just how little time of his warmth, his softness, his humanity I had left, I ached to be by his side. As I stepped out of the shadows, Beau jerked, his pulse spiking.

Wordlessly, I crossed the damp pavement of the lot and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him against me and burying my face in his chest. I inhaled the scent of his skin and hair and blood greedily, memorizing each note of his fragrance, each thump of his steady, delicate heart. Each passage of breath. The feel of his arms, warm and soft, as they encircled me and held me against him.

There was so little time left—and I realized that as I prepared, yet again, to battle for his mortality, it was a losing fight. The day was almost upon us when his heart would cease to function. Though this fact seared me through with unimaginable grief, there was also the strange, buoyant sense of pleasure.

 _Soon,_ the very selfish parts of my heart exalted, _Very soon!_

Unable to make sense of my reeling, inconsistent emotions, I pulled my face from his front and stretched up on my toes, throwing my arms around his neck and crushing his mouth with mine. Perhaps I was kissing him a little too hard, but if he noticed, he didn't tell me.

When I released him, he inquired, "Feeling any better?"

I felt my mouth twist unhappily. "Not particularly. But I think I managed to pull myself together. I'm sorry for acting so inexcusably earlier."

"My fault," he insisted, "I should have waited to tell you."

I shook my head, immediately disagreeing. "No—I needed to know… I can't believe I didn't make the connection!" I lamented once more, the mortified self-loathing overtaking me again.

"Hey," he said softly, cupping my face in his hands, "Don't worry about it. You've got a lot on your mind."

"And you don't?" I pouted. He was the one who kissed me this time, and I was overwhelmed by his unerring tendency to put everyone else ahead of his own feelings. He would never resent me for not seeing what should have been completely obvious, and I knew I would never deserve his undying faithfulness, devotion and selflessness.

I heard Charlie's boots on the wooden steps of the restaurant, and reluctantly pulled my mouth from his.

"Charlie's on his way," I informed him, reaching up to hold his wrists, "He'll drop you off at my place; I'll follow you there."

I pulled his hands from my face, and then darted into the shadows before Charlie could see me.

"Beau?"

"Over here, Dad."

I ran alongside the cruiser, listening with quiet amusement to their exchange on the way. Neither father nor son were very verbose or used to sharing their feelings, but it seemed Charlie was giving it a shot this evening.

His sentiments were simple, but heartfelt: he was proud of his son, he loved him, and he was happy he'd had these last two years with him.

Beau expressed his gratitude, and I could hear the undertone of sadness in his voice, and knew this was the beginning of his goodbyes to his father.

The two drove on for a moment or two in silence before Charlie asked where the turn-off was.

"Just around the next bend, I think," Beau replied. A moment later, I heard him groan regretfully when the large light-up sign, which intermittently flashed between the message 'Get Ready to Rock' and a bright red arrow, marked the turn-off to the driveway. I'd seen the plans, briefly, in Archie's mind over the last week or so, but hadn't really paid too much attention.

It seemed he'd finally decided between 'Vegas' and 'Rock of Ages'.

"Wow," I heard Charlie say as the cruiser slowed and they pulled off onto the tree-lined drive. Along the dirt road were flashing strings of LED lights, snaking all the way up to the house. "Kid doesn't do things halfway," he observed, clearly impressed.

"You know, you could come in if you want—just to make sure things don't get too wild," Beau suggested as Charlie parked in front of the porch steps.

Charlie chuckled. "Nah, I trust you. Have fun, kid."

"Yeah," Beau said sourly, and shut the passenger door behind him.

Charlie turned around and headed back down the drive. Out on the highway, I could hear a convoy of cars, their occupants loud, obnoxious music pounding in their speakers. We only had a matter of minutes before the party was in full swing.

As I crossed the lawn toward Beau, I noticed the uneasy expression on his face as he took a breath and squared his shoulders at the door. In his eyes, was a resolve I was familiar with.

The guilt hit me square in the stomach when I realized that what _should_ have been a night of celebrations for him, was merely another part to play, another few hours where he had to put on a mask, hold up a persona of happiness and cheer, all the while fearing for his life.

"Beau?" I called softly as I came up behind him, springing lightly onto the foundation, foregoing regular use of the stairs so I could be in his arms quicker. I was too eager.

I wrapped my arms around him, and inhaled his fragrance as I tilted my head back and grasped the back of his head, yanking his lips frantically to mine again. I hoped, in the small moments we had left alone, I could help him feel a small frisson of joy, of carelessness.

I was so filled with guilt, and grief for the absence of the night he _should_ have been having, desperate to relieve him of the necessary lies of our world for _one minute_. He wasn't even officially part of the family yet, and he was already lying for us. Constantly to his father, whether it was outright or by omission, often to his friends, and more often than lately, he'd been forced to uphold a façade I hadn't expected him to have to assume already.

For all intents and purposes—despite how much Archie and I insisted against it—this was _his_ night, and I wanted him to be free to enjoy it with as little trepidation as possible.

For once, Beau was the one to pull away, and in the moment before his wide, sweet eyes dropped from mine, I thought I saw a hint of fear in them.

Before I could ask, he said, "Well—I guess it's time to face the music."

I smiled a little, wondering if he'd already been made aware of the party's theme. He started to turn.

"Beau?"

"Yeah?" He turned back to glance at me over his shoulder.

"I just want you to know." I took his hand. "I won't let anything happen to you—I promise."

He smiled a little, lifting his hand to cradle the side of my face. Bliss, a warm bath of it, enveloped my skin in electricity. "I know," he said.

Then he tugged on my hand, and we stepped into the house together.

I held my breath as Beau took it all in.

"Um…" he said.

"What can I say?" I sighed. "He couldn't be stopped."

As usual, Archie had outdone himself. Relinquishing any persona of 'normal' now that high school was over and we'd soon vanish, my brother had taken this party to the extreme. It seemed every light bulb in the place had been replaced with a black light, casting an odd purple glow over everything.

The rest of the place had been decked out with multitudinous vinyl records, streamers and classic rock posters.

On the other end of the living room, in front of the glass wall, huge lighted letters spelled out the word, 'Rock'.

Another space had been partitioned off with soundproof glass and fashioned into what appeared to be a genuine recording studio. Another light board said 'A Night To Remember' and hung over a pile of blank CD's.

There was a wide space in the middle of the room obviously meant for dancing. Flashing lights finished off the ambiance of the party. The only thing missing was music.

"Hey!" Archie called when we stepped inside, "What do ya think?"

"Impressive," I admitted. Even for the super-speedy, he'd accomplished a lot in one afternoon.

Archie nodded, proud of himself. _Told you it'd be great_. "Cool. Now, help me out." He gripped my wrist and tugged me over to where he'd transported my music system down to the main level. He picked up my iPod. "Cutting Edge… or Familiar Favorites?" he queried, thumbing between the two playlists.

"Definitely familiar," I decided. "You can only lead the horse to water. They _are_ small town after all."

I dragged Beau upstairs with me, wanting to speak to Jessamine, but unwilling to have him parted from my side for even an instant. He stood quietly beside me while I updated her on our situation. Of course, she'd already heard the basics from Archie, but I wanted to be thorough.

Like Archie, Jessamine saw Beau's epiphany in good light. She was relieved to have more information on her enemy, thinking it would give us a better prediction of their motive and maneuvers. But her anxiety was still very much present as we discussed our lean numbers, and the reality of no further assistance.

"Ivan's just absinthal," she complained sourly. _No regard for family. They're really going to let something as infantile as the wolves come between us? They'll regret this later…_

"You don't think, with a little influence on your part…?" I suggested.

She saw what I was proposing right away and shook her head regretfully. "Believe me, if I thought it would help, I would run up to Denali tonight. But emotions strung this high are just impossible to sway… Grief is a formidable force…"

I nodded in understanding. I, myself, knew a little bit about formidable grief.

Jessamine stared toward the door, beyond which we could hear Archie singing to himself—'Pour Some Sugar on Me' it sounded like—as he pieced together the final touches for the party. Her fear was potent, not to be swayed. She feared there was nothing else we could do, we'd exhausted every option. She could only hope her training would be enough to prepare us for the battle that was coming…

 _I won't let myself imagine losing him,_ she thought, _I can't._

When we could reach no more conclusions, I pulled Beau along with me till I located Carine in her office.

"Good evening," she greeted us when we walked in, smiling gently. "Congratulations, Beau."

"Thanks." He smiled at her.

Though Carine was slightly more optimistic about our outlook than Jessamine, she was still desperate to come up with whichever options we may have missed. Over the past week, she'd written to friends within a reasonable radius, trying to reach the ones who were up-to-date with the times by telephone or email. So far, nothing had checked out, but Carine had not lost faith.

 _There has to be something,_ _ **someone**_ _who will help us…_

"It will be better to meet them outside of the city," she ascertained, nodding to herself. _There will be less chance of innocent casualties that way._

"We won't have to be as careful," I agreed.

 _Have you thought of where Beau will stay during the battle?_

I had, briefly, but the only solution I had been able to pin down was leaving him with the wolves, and I wondered—in light of recent circumstances—if he would agree to this.

If not… Well, I'd been turning the idea of staying back with him over in my mind, but I knew it wouldn't be wise. If Jessamine was this worried about the odds outweighing our chances for total survival, I didn't think the idea of losing another fighter would go over well.

As Carine and I finished up our conversation, I saw Beau's expression turn calculating, and I wondered what he was thinking. Was he considering pushing the issue of his transformation again, though he knew it would give us no extra advantage?

His guarded countenance made me anxious. One could only postulate on what was going through that imperceptible mind of his.

.

 **A/N:** Seriously, though… Why wouldn't the Cullens—specifically Edy, our resident music lover—have iPods? They officially released in 2001, and by the time 2006 hit they were wildly popular… Wow… I'm starting to feel old and I'm not even 24 yet xD


	14. Alliance

**A/N:** I re-read 'The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner' in less than a day to nail-down the full-details of Archie's vision in this chapter. You're welcome :P Hey, btw, anyone have any name suggestions for Riley's female counterpart? I was thinking something like Ryleigh—but feel like that's just sort of… lame and uncreative. I'm very tempted to give Brett (which I've decided I'll rename Bree in her male counterpart) a happier ending than Bree was met with… But we'll see.

Also, incredibly sorry for how long it took me to upload this chapter! It was a rough week health-wise, but I should be back to the usual grind now ;)

 **.**

The first car turned off the highway, and it displeased me to realize the McKayla Newton's thoughts remained clearly decipherable to me, louder than the others'. I'd paid too much attention to her in the early days, an easy access to Beau when I still hadn't been sure of myself, and it seemed her thoughts remained just as easy to find as they had been back then.

 _Wow—that house,_ she thought as she pulled up in her suburban with her usual groupies. _It's a total_ _ **mansion**_ _!_ Her impressiveness was impossible to hide, but I was immediately wary when she added, almost as an afterthought, _Makes a girl wonder what they're hiding out here…_ She suppressed a shiver as the eight of them trekked across the front lawn and headed up the porch steps.

Though McKayla had never been, let's say, the sharpest knife in the block, at least her instincts were where they should be.

 _Yowza!_ Jeremy was the second through the door, right on McKayla's heels, of course. _How much money does one family_ _ **need**_ _?_

Taylor, Colleen, Aubrey, Leanne, Samuel and even Logan had all elected to attend the after party, curiosity winning out over trepidation.

Each of their thoughts were equally curious and enthralled by the party Archie had put together.

 _I'd be dating the chick too if I got to hang out here…_ _Bet he thinks he's pretty special, grouping himself in with the Cullens like that,_ Logan grouched from the punch table, where he was watching Beau mingle with more civil students than he.

Jessamine could taste the notes of his envy from up the stairs, and I heard her chuckle to herself as she went over Seattle street maps, marking a small red X where the best chances of approach seemed to be.

 _My, my, we've got quite the green-eyed monster on our hands, don't we?_ she observed with amusement.

"More like gremlin," I muttered under my breath, and she laughed at that.

I was surprised when Beau slid into the host persona with surprising ease and grace. He did his best to stop and talk to each of his guests, helping them feel comfortable in their surroundings. Though I knew much of it was an act, that he was merely pretending to enjoy the party, I couldn't help but feel proud of him.

As he moved from group to group, mingling and chatting, I tried to keep mostly in the background, though I kept my arm looped through his, unwilling to part from his side.

Occasionally, the girls' thoughts slipped into territory they shouldn't have been in, and I pressed myself closer to his side, reminding myself that he'd chosen _me_ , and not them.

 _They can't seriously be going off to college together,_ Taylor pouted, _The fascination's bound to wear off sometime… Sigh… Look at his eyes with that shirt… Wow…_

 _Look at her, practically glued to his side… Ugh. Talk about clingy…_

 _Wow—he's so cute!_

 _What a hottie…_

 _Those shoulders, those arms… That behind in those pants… Mama like…_

Several times, I felt my hand tighten on his arm, and I knew he felt my instinctual response, because each time my grip tightened, he glanced down at me, a question in his eyes. However, the quizzical expression would quickly fade before he turned back to whichever conversation was at hand.

We were just settling into our pace, having rounded the room once only to wind back in front of Jeremy, when the vision blotted out the room in front of me with its potent concentration.

I'd been keeping tabs on Archie all night, of course. It wasn't often I was within a mile of him and not somewhat conscious of his every thought. The vision that struck him now, I was sure would have caught my attention even if I hadn't been half-listening.

The images were so precise, so clear, it was as if the vision were my own. More than just flashes and partial glimpses now, the line of newborns advanced through the familiar forests near Forks, all of them sopping wet. Near the front, a slender blonde female I didn't recognize held Beau's red t-shirt in her pale, dirty hands.

In each of their crimson eyes, the bloodlust was apparent, and I felt my hands clench into fists around the material of Beau's shirt when I remembered whom the target of that bloodlust was.

Archie's horror was a visceral force, so powerful that even _I_ could feel it shimmer in the air around me.

Carefully, I unwound my arm from Beau's.

"Stay here," I whispered, trying to hide the fear in my voice, "I'll be right back."

I could feel his eyes, like lasers on my back, as I wound my way through the closely-packed bodies. Some of the children had begun to sway to the music, others all-out dancing. I was careful not to touch any of them with my cold skin.

Archie was standing in the little alcove just off the kitchen's archway, his eyes blank and staring. One of his hands was on his head, his mouth an abject mask of horror.

"Archie?"

"They're coming." His voice was low, husky with the weight of his panic. "I didn't… I don't know… I couldn't see… How many, exactly…" He scanned the vision again cursorily, counting the neophytes. "Twenty, maybe? I'm sorry, Edy… I've been watching, I swear… I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner…"

"Arch." I cut him off, reaching up to clutch his wrist. "Calm down. Panicking won't help anything, and besides—isn't this what we've been waiting for? We knew this was coming."

He nodded, trying to convince himself.

My voice was quiet, soothing, much more calm than I felt. "We can prepare now. Take action."

Archie nodded slowly. "It won't be for a few more days yet. Friday, or early Saturday. We have time to strategize."

I nodded, staring up at him with hard, determined eyes, trying not to let the fear in.

"Did you see…?"

"His t-shirt? Yes. If we'd had any doubts about Beau's theories before, they're impossible to disregard now."

Just then, another premonition overcame him, equally as vicious, with just as much clarity as the former. It was merely a continuation of the first—the newborns advanced, but as they neared familiar territory, suddenly they split off in two groups—led by a dark-haired girl and a sandy-haired boy respectively. An ambush.

Archie gripped the wall next to him as if he needed the support.

An icy shot of horror spiked down my spine. This suggested a far greater sense of coordination and skill than we could have foreseen. It was clear someone capable of forethought and the ability to strategize was leading them.

"I'll notify Carine," I said, feeling the last of my composure leeching away. I rushed off, hearing Beau's approaching footsteps behind me. It was too late for Archie, and I hoped he would regain some equanimity for Beau's sake.

A second later, he demanded, "What? What did you see?"

Archie, still frozen with desperation, fixed his eyes on me across the room.

 _What do I say? What do I tell him?_

Almost imperceptibly, I shook my head at him. _Don't tell him anything,_ I wanted to say. There was no need to panic him before we had a game plan in place. I'd had enough of traumatizing Beau unnecessarily. What was the point in bringing more panic upon him in this moment? He had plenty of time to think about these things later.

I would not allow our kind to cause anymore interruptions to this night of celebrations for him.

As I flitted up the stairs to Carine's study, the doorbell rang. I barely had time to regard that, to realize that it was nearly eleven o' clock, too late in the evening for new party guests.

I didn't take the time to knock on her door. Instead, I slipped inside, shutting it behind me. Carine immediately made her way toward me, seeing the steadily growing panic on my face.

"You're bone-white," she said, gripping my shoulders. "What's happened?"

"They're coming," I breathed, as the terrified horror finally set in, locking up my limbs and making me dizzy.

I heard her breath escape in a gasp, though I couldn't see her face. Somehow, having a deadline made things worse. Knowing we only had a matter of days before they came… Archie had said twenty… Even with our skills—my mind reading, Archie's foresight, Jessamine's skill in combat—it would be almost three against each one of us… Carine, Earnest, Royal… Even Eleanor… Their chances were slimmer than ours, and even ours weren't promising…

We would lose, I realized. Some of us would be lost—we would not emerge from this battle entirely victorious. Our family would unequivocally be broken…

"How soon? Tonight?" she demanded now, and I recognized the familiar ordered system to her thoughts. She forced emotion to the wayside, using her centuries of practice as an emergency physician to rule, instead.

"No. He thinks Friday or Saturday."

"So that gives us four days to prepare… It's not much, but hopefully it'll be enough… Was he able to see the creator?"

I shook my head, my thoughts faraway as I pictured their plans to ambush us, to come at us from different sides.

"We'll meet them outside town limits," Carine decided, "Less human casualties that way…"

"Yes."

A brief swell of gratefulness tingled in my fingertips. We knew this terrain well, the forests were more familiar to us than they would be to the newborn army. If we met them halfway…

Jessamine and Archie slipped into the room then, hand in hand.

"I've got a joke for you," he quipped bitterly, "Who let the dogs in?"

I felt my head snap up as my eyes flashed to his face. " _What_?"

"You mean, ' _who_ '? Beau—that's who."

He went on, saying something else, but I wasn't listening to him. Instead, my focus had shifted to the conversation in the kitchen doorway, downstairs. Through Julie Black's eyes, I could see Beau's expression—frantic, confused.

"Spill," she demanded of him, and heat exploded behind my vision when she stabbed a finger into his sternum, "Now."

I started for the door, but before I could make it, Archie gripped my arm, just above the elbow, and yanked me to a halt.

 _Your concern's in the right place—but I don't think you_ _ **really**_ _want to do that._

A flash of Julie's wrist popping out of place flickered behind his eyes. Though it wasn't a vision, he knew me well enough to guess my next moves.

"Or do I?" I hissed, my narrowed eyes on the door.

"I don't really know everything yet…" Beau was saying nervously, still distracted.

"Let me take care of this. You three stay here." Archie released my arm and slipped out into the hallway, the booming bass spilling into the room the instant before he shut the door behind him.

"We'll have to cut down a little on the training," Jessamine was murmuring to Carine, "But I'm confident I'll be able to teach you the necessities." Her mind was an anxious shifting catalogue, snipping and splicing things here and there, forming new hybrid groupings in her strategy to educate us succinctly but thoroughly.

"Did Archie get anymore details than that?"

 _Stinking dogs walk right into_ _ **my**_ _party, think they can mess with_ _ **my**_ _bro…_

"We need to have a little talk," Archie muttered close to Beau's ear after giving the dogs a meaningful look. It didn't take my talent to translate _that_ one.

"Sure thing," Beau said.

I started when I realized a couple of seconds had passed, and I had not responded to the question.

"Details?" Jessamine repeated.

I shook my head. "Nothing else. But I think their ability to split off into two different groups proves we're dealing with a group much more cunning than we formerly realized."

Jessamine's delicate brows pushed together. _There's no way we'll be able to protect Forks on our own… The numbers just aren't in our favor…_

Something twisted in my stomach when I realized out of all of us, Jessamine was just as unsure as ever.

Suddenly, her head snapped up. All battle plans ceased, and her thoughts were entirely oriented around Archie. She was gone from the room in a flash, and by his side before two seconds had passed.

Carine gazed at me quizzically. _Is she alright?_

"Fine," I said to her distractedly as I, once again, focused on the conversation downstairs.

I felt a smirk pull up one corner of my mouth when I saw the fear in Julie Black's eyes.

 _Jeesh,_ she thought, _If looks could kill… That's one possessive broad. Not like I was gonna hurt the guy or anything… We have a right to know._

She spoke the last sentence aloud, struggling to mask her trepidation with an indignant glare at Jessamine.

Jessamine shifted, positioning herself in front of her husband, and glared up at Julie with her lips pulled back from her teeth.

"Hey, hey!" Beau interjected, his voice high and tight with anxiety, "Let's everybody just _calm down for a second_ …!"

Carine chuckled softly, and I didn't miss the swell of pride in her thoughts. "Always the pacifist," she murmured affectionately.

I felt my own tenderness swell like a balloon inside my chest. Carine already saw Beau as another one of her sons, and though there were many times I'd found myself grateful for him, I felt that thankfulness rise anew in this moment.

The sound of Beau's heartbeat, picking up pace, distracted me from my affectionate thoughts.

"Archie," he was saying, his voice hoarse and splintering, "Archie I need to do something… Get out of here… I can't let them follow me _here_ …" His breaths were coming quicker, shallower, and I realized that he had been made aware of Archie's vision.

Unthinkingly, I made my way toward the door, wanting to comfort him.

 _Stay there,_ Archie ordered, only suspecting more conflict to arise if I were to join them. Julie, Emma and Quinn already felt uneasy enough with the two vampires in front of them.

Standing in the hallway, I could hear Beau's voice more clearly, and the panic in it rubbed my insides raw.

"This isn't just about _us_ anymore, Archie! Maybe, if we give them what they're looking for…"

A shocked hiss escaped from between my lips, and Carine stepped up behind me.

 _What is it?_ she wanted to know.

"Beau wants to sacrifice himself, of course," I groaned quietly.

"Dude," Archie protested, "Don't be an idiot. Do you have any idea—"

"If it's between me and my friends, my _dad_ —"

"Hold it," Julie cut in then, her voice cutting, " _What_ is coming?"

"Our kind. Lots of them."

The next exchange of words had me frozen with shock. I stood very still as the impossible occurred in the large gathering room downstairs—as I listened to my brother breach the suggestion of an alliance with the werewolves.

Carine saw the shift in expression on my face.

"What is it?" she said aloud now, "What's happened?"

"I'm totally freaking blind now," Archie was saying, "But whatever—I'll deal with it."

"We'll have to work together. It'll be uncomfortable, but whatever… It's our job to protect them, so we'll just have to grin and bear it. Sam won't be able to argue with the sense this makes."

"Amazing…" I whispered. "They want to align with us…"

Carine's eyes widened with delightful surprise. _In all my years, never would I have conceived of such a possibility… Wolves and vampires—united as one…_

"Tonight," I heard Jessamine say, "We were already planning a strategic meeting. Three o' clock in the clearing ten miles north of the Hoh Forest ranger station. Coming from the west, you'll be able to follow our scent in… If you're going to fight alongside us, you'll need some instruction."

"We'll be there."

.

Everything had turned on a dime. I was reminded of just how quickly circumstances could change; whether it was in a positive or a negative way.

The conditions tonight had led us to had unequivocally been positive. Though few of us were enthralled about including the wolves in our regime, it was futile to argue against our relief. It was such respite to finally be freed from the weeks of tension and stress, that I felt quite literally weightless as the remainder of the party played out.

Now that we had not only the extra help on our side, but the element of surprise, I was confident we would have no trouble defeating the newborns. The only thing left to do was find a hiding place for Beau, and all my problems would be eradicated.

As the party drew to a close, I found myself more eager for Jessamine's training courses than I had been up until this point.

"All right!" Eleanor enthused when the final guest had gone through the door. "Time to get the _real_ party started!"

Earnest chuckled good-naturedly at his daughter's antics, and every thought in the room was free of strife. Truly, now that we wouldn't be fighting alone, it seemed there was nothing we couldn't handle.

"Regardless of the joking," Carine said amusedly, "We should begin our preparations."

Beau was tense at my side, his hand frozen around mine, and his face was riddled with anxiety.

"Don't worry," I whispered to him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to decide against it, shaking his head instead.

Archie, noticing his friend's distress, stepped to Beau's side and clapped him on the shoulder. "We got this, dude." In a way that was entirely the opposite of subtle, he gave Jessamine a meaningful look, and jerked his chin in Beau's direction.

A moment later, I felt the concentrated wave of calm she sent out, and Beau's fingers relaxed in mine.

 _Have you considered bringing him along tonight?_ Carine asked. _It may ease his concerns to see us in action._

I shook my head infinitesimally.

Carine sighed. _You're so stubborn._

The rest of my family offered Beau their assurances, but he remained disquieted as we walked out the door and got in the Volvo. He was too quiet as we wound down the drive.

I was surprised when I glanced over at him once we'd hit the highway, and found the familiar resolute expression in his eyes. I reached over nervously to take his hand. When he felt my fingers wind through his, he gave me a small smile that didn't touch his eyes, and then turned his head to stare out the window again.

Finally, he said, "I'm going with you tonight."

He had to have been exhausted. It had been a long day for him, and I immediately disapproved. "Beau, you need your sleep. You're exhausted." It was obvious in the slumped set of his shoulders, and the occasional spacey look in his eyes. "Besides," I added, knowing my concerns for his wellbeing would not convince him alone, "I don't know how cordially things will turn out tonight. You see, this is kind of an experiment. We've never done this before, and I'm not certain if it will be possible for us all to keep our tempers totally in check." Of course, I was referring more to the dogs than my family. "I don't want you caught in the middle if things get volatile."

I reprimanded myself when this only seemed to solidify his demeanor.

"You're gonna just leave me behind, unprotected?" He regarded me with an arched eyebrow.

My resolve faltered. He was right, of course. He'd be alone tonight. I hoped he was exhausted enough to sleep right through my absence. I'd most likely be gone till after dawn. It would be the first night we'd spent apart in a long time, and I had already been uneasy about it before he'd made _that_ point.

"I'm not being left behind." I was surprised to hear determination in his voice, rather than fear. If he wasn't afraid of being left unprotected, then… Why did he want to go so badly?

"There's no reason for you to be there," I pushed.

"Look—I'm not just gonna stand back and let my people get hurt. If I'm there—"

"No one's going to get hurt," I assured him. I might have smirked if the situation wasn't causing him so much anxiety.

Beau humphed. After a moment he said, "I guess I could always call Jules. She won't leave me behind."

My eyes narrowed, and I felt my lips smooth into a thin line. Usually I found his stubbornness endearing, but not this night. I knew he'd taken all the power from me then. Julie would respond to Beau's every beck and call without hesitation, whether his requests were insane or not.

I exhaled softly, realizing the fight was won, as I pulled onto his street and parked in front of the house.

I tried not to pout as Beau stretched across the console and kissed me on the temple. "I'll see you inside."

I waited until he was safely in the house, and then went to wait for him upstairs. Apparently, half past midnight was much past Charlie's bedtime. I couldn't help but laugh as Beau practically had to drag his father up to bed.

I curled in the rocking chair as he went about his nightly routine. I felt my face pinch disapprovingly when he entered his room a few moments later, teeth brushed, face clean, dressed in denim jeans and a flannel shirt.

He extended his hand toward me, and unwilling to decline the gesture, I put my hand in his. I let him lead me over to the bed and pull me to his chest. His skin was warm through the thin material of his t-shirt, exposed by the undone buttons of his top layer. When he began to shiver, I pouted a little with disappointment and dragged the quilt over him, laying it between us so I wouldn't chill him further.

He held me tightly, rigidly, and I hoped he would drift off to sleep. Deciding it would be too obvious if I began to sing, I remained silent, my head on his chest.

"I wish you would relax," I whispered, "You have nothing at all to worry about. This _will_ work, Beau."

His teeth locked together audibly, and when I glanced up, the muscle in his jaw was working.

"It will almost be _too_ easy," I tried to assure him, knowing there would be no point in him coming to the clearing to watch. It would serve him better to stay here and rest. I wished he would just _trust me_. "Not only do we have numbers on our side now, but also the element of surprise. I doubt they're aware that werewolves even exist. I've seen their group dynamic in Jessamine's memories, and believe me—the wolves' techniques will trump theirs, no doubt. In fact, it will be so easy with them divided and confused, that there may not be enough for the rest of us to do. Someone may have to sit out," I teased.

"You think so?" he asked, his eyes wide with seriousness and concern.

"I do," I assured him, "The wolves were born for this, Beau. It's their… Well, some could call it destiny. They certainly think of it that way."

I knew he wasn't nearly as worried about the welfare of my family as he was about the wolves'. He hadn't been this anxious until Julie Black had enlisted her pack. I suppose it made sense. They were half-human, after all.

Beau did not relax as the minutes passed. Though I could not see his face from where my head rested on his chest, I knew he did not fall asleep. His shoulders were too stiff, his breaths too shallow and frequent.

Finally, I sighed, and sat up. I wanted to get to the clearing before the wolves, and I didn't have anymore time to hesitate. When I looked into Beau's face, his eyes were alert and tense, his mouth set in a straight, serious line.

I reached out to brush my fingertips along the silken skin of his lower lip. Electricity sparked in my fingertips as I did so, and I smiled softly.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay and sleep?"

He swung his body up into a sitting position, and planted his feet on the floor. "I'm sure."

I repressed the urge to roll my eyes and stood. "Fine, then. Hop on."

He looped his arms around my shoulders and his legs around my waist. When I was certain he was secure, I jumped from the window and darted for the trees.

.

 **A/N:** I have a feeling the next one is gonna be a good one, so stay tuned!


	15. Instruction

**A/N:** Hi, my lovely readers :) I'm back the very next day because the last chapter was kinda short. Originally I was going to combine it with this one, but it just made more sense to separate them for the chapter names to make cohesive sense and such. I am currently working on pre-writing Compromise. I know it's one a lot of you are excited for. But just so you know, it'll be quite a bit different from the original! So as long as you're all prepared for that, we shouldn't have any issues ;) Have fun reading this one; it was fun to write :)

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When we reached the clearing, Eleanor was laughing.

Carine and Earnest stood a little aside, talking with their heads close together.

Jessamine and Archie were fiddling around, pretending to warm-up, but really were just playing. Though she could have taken him, for now she allowed herself the thrill of being chased and caught up in his arms.

She was wearing all black, her hair pulled back from her face in a neat braid. I could see she'd dressed accordingly, strategically. She didn't often wear sleeveless tops, but I heard the intentions in her mind right away—she felt the need to prove herself to the wolves, to show them she was more than capable of instructing them, and that they could certainly take her seriously. The racer back tank top she was wearing gave full access to the multitude of scars across her arms, hands and shoulders, and it would certainly get the point across.

I let Beau down when we reached the edge of the field and walked at his pace toward my family, our hands linked between us.

"Hey, so I've been thinking," he said after a minute.

He didn't elaborate so I teased, "If you want me to know, I'm afraid you'll have to tell me what about." I giggled softly, but he didn't so much as smile.

I took him seriously then, pivoting until I was in front of him, and took his other hand, as well.

"What are you thinking?"

"Victor," he said simply.

My teeth clenched automatically at the sound of his name. "Victor?" I repeated blankly.

"I think he's the one behind it all," Beau went on. His eyes were distant as he spoke quietly and without inflection, as if struggling to come to terms with his own thoughts. "The stranger in my room, the newborns in Seattle… See, I think it's just a little too perfect to all be a coincidence."

"Why do you say that?"

Instead of answering my question, he asked me another. "When you were tracking him last year… You went south, right, to Texas?"

"Yes," I said, feeling my brow crumple with concentration. The confusion was like a fog in my brain, and I struggled to see through it, to see the answer beyond that felt very obvious. "Hmm," I murmured as I pondered. Beau had a way of piecing the picture together in a way I, nor the rest of my family, had considered yet.

Victor and I had spent quite a bit of time in Texas last spring. At first I had wondered why he would have lingered there for so long. For weeks, I'd skirted him, never succeeding in pinning him down… Had he been inspired by the history of the south? Was that why he'd stayed, at his own risk, for so long?

"See," Beau said, bringing my attention back to the present, "He could have picked up the idea there. But unlike Miguel and Benita, he has no clue what he's doing, so the newborns are all crazy and out of control."

I began to shake my head in disagreement. "But how would Victor, of all people, know how Archie's talent works? Only Sulpicia knows that."

Beau stared down at me as if I were missing a very important point. "But Tanvir's family… They'd know how it works, wouldn't they?" he said finally. "Lauren lived with them awhile; it could have come up in conversation, and we know she was still friendly enough with Victor to do him a couple favors…" He suppressed a shudder. "Why wouldn't she tell him everything else, too? Ivan must have told her everything if they were planning on getting married, right?"

I was beginning to comprehend, and I didn't necessarily _want_ him to be right. "And you think Victor may have sent one of the nomads he created to collect the things from your room… Hmm, I suppose it's possible, if she were more mature than the others, if she'd been around for a while… I wouldn't put it past Victor to take any measures necessary to keep himself out of harm's way. He's shown a remarkable gift for self-preservation from the start—maybe it's a talent of his…

"I maintain my opinion that the Volturi are more likely, but it would make sense… By hiding behind an army, Victor would be safe from us, and maybe even the Volturi. Maybe he's even counting on us to win in the end, though not before our own numbers are whittled some… In that case, there would be no witnesses against him. As a matter of fact, he may be considering destroying any survivors himself—despicable as his capabilities are…"

I blinked up at Beau. "Certainly possible," I congratulated him, proud of his ingenuity, his quick wit and his deep intuition. "At any rate, we must be prepared for every situation, until we know for certain." I smiled. "You've been very perceptive tonight; I'm impressed."

"Maybe it's just this place," he tried to joke, gesturing toward the clearing, "Gives me some weird sense of déjà vu, like he's watching or something." I saw the shudder ripple through his shoulders then.

"He will never lay a finger on you, Beau," I vowed, and despite knowing better, I surreptitiously scanned the shadows for any potential danger. It was unsettling to know someone had found a way through every one of our defenses. There was a time I thought we'd been all but impenetrable, but things were different now. I found myself eager for this nightmare to be over, for once and for all.

"Let him come," I whispered mostly to myself, feeling the lust for murder twist warm and sharp in my belly. "What I wouldn't give to have him within my grasp, this very moment… To bring him to his knees, to tear his head from his shoulders, to finally and undoubtedly put an end to it all myself… Him, and anyone else who's ever entertained the idea of causing you harm…"

I felt Beau's fingers tighten around mine, and the feel of his warm palm against mine startled me from my malicious daydreaming. My gaze flickered up to his, apologetic when I saw the wariness in his eyes. Before I could decide whether it was fear or concern, he turned toward my family and tugged on my hand.

We started walking again.

Jessamine and Archie had ceased their flirtatious games, and Archie stood a little aside now, arms folded across his chest. He was glowering toward the trees, whole parts of his vision steadily blotting out like splotches of spilled ink. The wolves were getting close, and my brother's thoughts were a wordless growl of frustration and epithets.

Jessamine was in full-on instructor mode, as she ran through different drills in her head.

"What's with Archie?" Beau asked me when we were nearly to them.

I laughed softly at my brother's sullenness. "Archie's just a tad… Edgy. The wolves are almost here, so he's blinded, of course."

 _Oh, sure_ , he thought snidely as he rolled his eyes in my direction, _Like you've_ _ **never**_ _complained about not being able to hear Beau… Gimme a break._

I grinned at him, knowing there wasn't anything to worry about, and he was just being petulant.

Eleanor threw her arm over my shoulders then. "Hey" _Sex Kitten_ "Edy," she said, grinning. "Hey, Beau. You scrapping with us tonight?"

Beau smiled bashfully and pushed his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "Maybe."

I exhaled heavily through my nose, exasperated. " _Please_ don't give him any ideas, El."

Carine approached us then, her hand linked with Earnest's. "When will our guests arrive?" she inquired.

I closed my eyes so I could concentrate.

Because Julie's voice was most familiar to me, I caught hers first.

 _Who do they think we are? Totally inexperienced newbies? And_ _ **man**_ _does this trail ever stink!_

 _This should be interesting…_

 _I wonder if they'll let us practice on 'em?_

 _Man—this is gonna be_ _ **so**_ _cool!_

 _Shut up, Sarah._

 _What? I think it's nice of them to let us come!_

 _Just stay in formation and listen._

 _Yeah, yeah._

 _Sarah._

 _ **What?!**_

 __ _Does anybody else smell that?_

 _You're telling me…_

 __"A minute and a half, I'd guess. But I'm going to have to translate. They don't trust us enough to use their human forms."

Carine nodded in understanding. "Of course—that is entirely understandable. This is very hard for them. I'm grateful they're coming at all."

Abruptly, Beau's breathing grew shallow, and when I glanced up at him, his eyes were wide with… Fear? I supposed it ought to make any human nervous to be around monsters.

I almost rolled my eyes. So he saw the wolves as a relative threat, but he'd never regarded me in the same way?

The wolves were drawing nearer, their thoughts growing louder and more jumbled. Listening to the wolves' minds was fascinating—like an arpeggio made of various chords and notes, echoing each other in their synchronization, but also entirely distinct in their separateness.

 _Who's bright idea was this anyway?_

 _Aw—c'mon. You know you're looking forward to beating some vampires to a pulp._

 _Why do they think we need to watch them train? It's not like we weren't_ _ **born**_ _for this…_

 _That's enough. We've agreed to be civil and tolerant. This will be good for all of us._

I struggled to concentrate, instinctively counting out the separate voices as they sounded inside my head, but found it more difficult than usual. Samantha's voice, of course, was the easiest to pick out—the familiar authoritative echo was impossible to miss. Julie, of course, was easily discernable as well.

 _So, do they all have powers, Jules? Or is it just the mind-reader and the psychic?_

 _Do you really think it's a good idea to watch them fight? I mean—they won't wanna, y'now, come at us?_

 _This is gonna be so cool…_

 _Ugh—they reek!_

 _How can he stand being near her?_

 _Sam—are you sure it's a good idea for them to know how many of us there are? It feels… Wrong._

 _There's no point in hiding this from them. We've agreed to join their ranks. They'll find out sooner or later._

 _Sigh… Fine—but I still don't like it._

 _You don't have to._

"Brace yourselves," I warned my family as I tallied their count again. "It seems they've been holding out on us."

"And that means….?" Archie demanded, frustrated that I knew something before he did.

I ignored him, entirely focused on the surrounding forest as the wolves came into view. My family reacted in the way I had expected them to, of course. When the ten wolves melted from the shadows, they immediately assumed a defensive position. I stayed where I was, my hand clutched in Beau's, but it almost felt wrong to be behind them, especially when I was acting as translator.

I hated to leave my family alone while I lingered behind their defensive line, though I knew my ultimate place was here with Beau.

Eleanor swore under her breath, impressed.

 _Are we sure this is safe?_ Earnest wondered, easing his arm around Carine's waist, warily protective.

"What'm I missing?" Beau whispered, as he squinted unseeingly into the shadows.

"The pack has grown," I murmured in his ear, not pulling my eyes from the group of wolves in front of us.

 _Okay, so… Are we all just gonna stand here like statues the entire night?_

 _What next?_

 _I dunno about this…_

 _Please—chill. They're cool._ I hadn't known until now that a wolf could roll her eyes.

And then, from the end of the line, a slightly wider-through-the-shoulders, grey wolf snorted. _Check it out, Jules. Your boyfriend's pretty cozy with the redhead back there…_

 _Shut it, Leo!_

"Interesting," I murmured to myself. I had always assumed solely the females carried the wolf gene. A male, as part of the pack, had been something I never would have imagined.

 _Oh please,_ Leo bullied, _We all_ _ **know**_ _you're jealous._

 _Let me tell you a little story about a pot and a kettle, Leo…_

Though the dynamic of the pack mind was entirely new to me, I sensed something shift, almost imperceptibly. It seemed the male wolf suddenly had his guard up, as if he were trying to hide from the rest of them.

 _Damn, girl—touchy._

 _You want me to_ _ **touch**_ _you, Leo? I'll rip your freaking tail off!_

 _Both of you—shut up._

 _… Sorry, Sam._

The male wolf—Leo—seemed to lose his grip on the wall he'd erected, and suddenly, I could feel rather then hear the affection for his Alpha. But there was more… This was different… There was a history there. She'd been his, a time ago, but since had found love in another's arms.

 _Elliot_ , the male thought briefly—with such a competing combination of friendliness and bitterness I couldn't comprehend the tone of the relationship there.

There was an awkward shift in the pack mind, and I realized that everyone had been watching the progression of these thoughts with Leo. There was no privacy in the mind of a wolf.

 _Both of you just let it go. This isn't the time,_ Samantha ordered.

Leo's attention shifted, raffling through his mind for some sort of distraction. Suddenly, there was the insinuation in his mind that the legitimacy of Emma's father was in question. Though this wasn't particularly important for him, it worked to distract the others.

 _Oh for the love of—let it go!_

 _This is so not the time…!_

 _Why does this always have to happen…?_

 _ENOUGH!_ __the Alpha barked. _I want silence from each and every one of you._

Surprisingly, the entire pack lapsed into wordlessness at once. Even their thoughts emitted no sound.

Samantha's black eyes moved permissively to Carine's face.

Seeing she had her attention, Carine stepped forward slowly, not wanting to frighten the pack. She felt wary putting herself in no-man's land, but she forced herself to remember there was a treaty in place, and that if she meant them no harm, they would tolerate her proximity.

"Welcome," she said softly to them. "We're pleased to have you join us."

 _Thank you,_ Sam thought, and I repeated the words. _We will watch and listen, but no more_ , she continued, and I translated again.

"Of course," Carine said. "My daughter, Jessamine has experience in this area. She will teach us how they fight, and how to defeat them. Take from this what you will and apply it to your own hunting fashion."

 _They're different from you?_ It was impossible to ignore the brief spark of offense I took from her words, but I tried to calm myself. There had been no ill-will in her words; only mere curiosity.

I repeated them quickly.

"Yes, they are all very new to this life—only weeks, months old, really. Children." A swell of compassion went through my mother's thoughts. _Poor things,_ she contemplated, _Created and sent off into battle… Nary of the consequences, completely uneducated…_ She focused herself. "They will rely on their visceral strength alone, and they'll be in absence of any kind of skill or strategy. Tonight there are twenty of them, but that could change in the next few days—their tempers are difficult to control, and they tend to fight amongst themselves, often destroying each other as a result. We'll split them evenly between ourselves and your pack—ten for us, ten for you. It shouldn't be a challenge."

Wordless excitement grumbled through the wolves' minds.

 _Ten? Please._

 _It'll only be too easy!_

 _Won't even be any fun!_

 _Quiet_ , Samantha hushed them. She turned her eyes back to Carine's face. _You said 'the next few days'. When will they be here? How will they come?_

"They'll make their way across the mountains on foot in four days. It'll be late morning when they arrive," Carine answered. "Archie will help us interpose their path as they approach."

 _Thank you for the information. We will observe._ I translated Samantha's words as she ordered her pack to a less intimidating vantage point. _We will watch respectfully and quietly,_ she reminded them, not unlike a mother admonishing her children.

The pack whined and complained as they lowered themselves to the earth.

 _This is so humiliating!_ Emma whined.

 _I feel like some_ _ **pet**_ _,_ Quinn grouched.

There was an instant of silence, as if the earth were taking a bracing breath, and then Jessamine broke the quiet, stepping confidently into the space between the age-old rivaling clans.

Archie's hands twitched at his sides. He wanted to go stand next to her, or yank her back to his side where he knew she'd be safe.

 _You'll keep an ear out; let me know if they turn on me?_ Jessamine asked me, and I nodded reassuringly at her. She turned to face us with a sigh. _I can't believe I'm trusting these… Pups._

"Carine is right," she began, her voice loud and authoritative as she put her hands on her hips. "These newcomers will fight like children—without class and skill, strategy or forethought. Two key points you'll want to remember: Don't let them get their arms around you—they _will_ crush you… And don't go for the obvious kill. They'll be expecting that, and you will lose… As long as you approach them from the side and don't stand still for too long, they'll be too confused to respond effectively." Her eyes flickered to our sister. "Eleanor, please step forward."

 _My pleasure,_ she thought, grinning. _Let's show these puppies what we're made of._

Jessamine backed up a few yards, ensuring everyone had a clear view.

"Eleanor will be my first example, as she fights most similarly to a newborn—relying on her strength predominantly."

 _Yeah, I do._ "I'll _try_ not to bruise your pretty face."

Jess smirked in amusement. "I just _meant_ that you're very straightforward about your attack method. They will be, too, so just…" She flipped her hand, "Go for the easy kill."

Eleanor's full lips spread wide into a grin. _Easy,_ she scoffed, _I'll show you easy…_ She leaned forward, flexing her arms.

"Alright, El—go for it."

Without a first or even second thought—just as Jessamine had expected—Eleanor launched herself at Jessamine like an arrow from a bow, or a bullet from a gun. She fumbled and grappled for a grasp on Jessamine's tiny waist, or one of her sculpted arms, but Jessamine saw each predictable move coming and dodged every one.

Of course, every miss had Eleanor's frustration growing. Pretty soon, that frustration led her every move, which drew even more of a parallel between her fight style and the newborns'.

 _Dammit, dammit, dammit!_ she screamed in her head over and over as she struggled.

Jessamine whirled again, calculating for the briefest of instances before she leaped around behind El and caught her from behind, posing with her bare teeth inches from her throat.

"Dammit!" Eleanor shrieked, out loud this time.

 _Whoa._

 _They're_ _ **fast.**_

 __ _Are they all that strong-looking?_

 _That was swe-et!_

"Rematch," Eleanor immediately commanded, losing herself in the heat of the moment and forgetting the purpose of this training session.

"Everyone else goes first," she said to Eleanor, who, sulking, reoriented herself in the lineup.

Jessamine's eyes flashed to my face, and Beau clutched me closer. "Your turn."

"It's okay," I told him, rubbing his hand soothingly. He released me, and I went to face Jessamine eagerly in the makeshift ring.

Jessamine paused, ignoring my offensive stance. "I know how you worry about her," she said to Beau, and I paused. "I want you to see there's no need for that."

Beau was _worried_ about me? Had that been the cause of his anxiety all along? Could it be that he wasn't so terrified of the coming newborns, that it wasn't _his_ life he was concerned over, but _mine_?

A ridiculous concept, and yet… I supposed I could see his point. If he were in my position, I would be worried too.

 _Okay, Edy—let's do this._

I grinned, the smile quickly morphing into a threatening gnash of teeth. I didn't need to be told twice.

Jessamine's mind filled with a menagerie of fight tactics, and I focused in on her as we began to circle measuredly. She lunged at me, but of course I already saw her coming, and ducked easily. I leaped, twirling around to grab her from behind, but she was one step ahead, and dodged my grasp.

Her counter-attack was immediate, but of course, I saw her coming. We circled and dodged, leaped, ducked and lunged.

 _Sweep right!_ she screamed in her head, but I knew my sister well enough to know that she was lying. She tried this a couple more times until she realized telling me the wrong move wasn't going to win her any advantages. She did her best to turn her mind off, to act completely on instinct, but it was something even the most practiced of vampires had trouble doing. Even instinct required a small amount of forethought, and she couldn't succeed that way either.

Granted, Jessamine wasn't easy to fool, herself. For all my speed and telepathic powers, Jessamine matched them in experience and learned stratagem.

When it was clear neither of us was going to have the upper hand, Carine cleared her throat pointedly.

"I think we can all conclude it's a draw," she called calmly.

My sister and I straightened from our crouches and grinned at each other.

Jessamine called Carine up next, keeping her training brief and methodical, stripping it down to its basics. Jess knew our mother hated to fight at all, and figured she didn't need anything extra.

 _She'll do fine,_ Jess decided after a few minutes.

She moved onto Royal, coaching him in the importance of switching up his habitual movements and staying focused.

"They won't hesitate even for a second—so always have your guard up."

With Earnest, Jessamine focused mainly on dodging techniques and counter attacks. He fought harder than I would have expected, but as I listened to his mind, it quickly became apparent why he was so much more willing to participate than Carine had been.

 _If her compassion hinders her from fighting, I must be prepared to step in for her—to protect her,_ he determined.

Archie was last, and he stepped very casually into the circle to face his wife. Jessamine was in full instructor mode, and her face did not give away her affections.

However, her thoughts told a different story. She'd saved him for last, not wanting to face-off with him, even in theory. They'd sparred before, of course, but it had only been playing around. It was very nearly painful for her to stand in front of him now, and imagine the ways in which she could incapacitate him.

"It's the final countdown…" Archie sang under his breath.

Jessamine tried not to respond, but the humor got to her—I saw the amusement twinkle in her eyes—the tension relieved for a moment—as she sank back into a crouch.

Archie stood, unmoving, in the middle of the circle. He lifted one hand and curled a beckoning finger in the air.

"Come and get me, baby," he murmured.

"If you insist."

Jessamine deliberated, stalking right and then left, her eyes narrowed on her target. Archie had his eyes closed, waiting for her attack.

He smirked a second before she lunged at him. _You wanna play it left? Let's play it left._ He took a deliberate step forward, out of her reach, and Jessamine paused, her back to his.

 _Ooh, getting fancy now,_ Archie though as she reached back to secure herself against him, and then launched herself over his shoulders. _Meh, a little predictable,_ he thought as he gripped her hips and vaulted her away.

She landed lithely in the grass twenty yards off, as if his counterattack had simply been part of a dance.

Her eyes were alight now as she dove at him again. Of course, he saw her coming as she made as if to approach him directly, but hooked right.

 _Missed me… Oops. Missed me again… Oh. Was that another miss?_

Soon, the two were a couple of whirling dancers as Jessamine struck again and again, only coming up with empty air.

Finally, he decided to put Jessamine out of her misery. In a movement more fluid than water, his body curved, twisting around hers, and he caught her around the waist from behind with one arm.

Jessamine froze.

Archie chuckled, and bowed his head to press his lips to her wintry throat. "I win." His voice was low, affectionate, and now, Jessamine grinned.

It may have been assumed that Jessamine would find annoyance in her own defeat, but instead she was relieved that her husband would undoubtedly be able to hold his own in a fight. This had been a test for her, and he'd passed with flying colors.

"You truly are not to be reckoned with," she said to him, shaking her head.

Archie grinned against her skin. "Part of my charm, I think."

The wolves began to murmur again, impressed and wary.

 _Whoa—how does he_ _ **do**_ _that?_

 _That could be troublesome._

 _But he's just an insignificant little flea!_

 _Huh, thought he was supposed to be blind when we were around,_ Julie muttered.

As if on the same exact wavelength, Beau muttered in my ear, "How does he do that when the wolves are around?"

"The wolves aren't involved in those particular instances. He can still see, between the gaps, where their decisions don't effect certain outcomes," I explained. "It's difficult for him, but possible." Already, my brother was beginning to sport a considerable headache.

Beau nodded thoughtfully as, up ahead, Eleanor stepped into the ring for another go. I watched him blink groggily, and leant him a supportive arm.

"We're almost done," I murmured in his ear, realizing he'd be coming up on twenty-four hours since he'd last slept. He must have been exhausted.

Jessamine wrapped things up soon after, turning to address the wolves. "We'll be here again tomorrow, more of the same. Feel free to join us again."

 _Yes, we'll be here,_ Samantha agreed. She locked her dark, fathomless eyes on mine. _Your family has been nothing but kind to allow our attendance today. Thank you. Would it be possible for us to take inventory of your scents? I worry, that in the heat of the battle, we may be unable to distinguish between you and the newborns, and I don't want to make any mistakes._

I nodded and turned to my family. "The pack believes it will be useful to familiarize themselves with our scents now—in order to avoid making mistakes later. If we could hold very still, it will make things easier for them."

"Of course," Carine told Samantha, "Whatever you need."

The pack grumbled sourly at the prospect of scenting us.

 _Everyone on your best behavior,_ Samantha ordered, and again I got the impression of a reproving mother.

She led the line of wolves into the clearing, over to where we waited stoically. Samantha meticulously moved down the line, taking in each of our scents, trying to hide her disgust and failing.

Jessamine was wary as they moved down the line toward her, glancing at me out of the corner of her eyes.

 _You'll let me know if they get any ideas, won't you?_

I nodded, a little exasperated.

 _Way too close for comfort…_ She cringed as Samantha sniffed her and then moved on to Eleanor, who was on her other side.

My other sister, in contrast, was perfectly relaxed and at ease.

 _Come on,_ El thought slyly, _Get a good ol' whiff of his mamacita!_

I laughed quietly to myself, but the sound stuck in my throat when I caught sight of Beau examining the wolves.

His eyes were wide—with fear, I thought, at first. But quickly I realized it wasn't trepidation, but fascination on his expression as his gaze flickered down the line of wolves. I saw when he paused, his eyes catching on the tall, russet wolf standing second in command behind Samantha… Julie.

As I watched, his lips pulled into a small smile, and I suddenly felt hot. I didn't know whether it was envy or anger that whirled like a dervish inside my chest, but I _did_ know that I found myself disappointed when I realized he _wasn't_ afraid of the wolves. I felt awful for thinking it, but couldn't deny the pain, like a dagger between the ribs, when Beau beamed in response to her goofy dog's smile. His eyes lit up with that familiar glow I only ever saw in the presence of his friend the wolf girl.

 _He's not even scared of me!_ Julie thought with elation. Somehow, the lack of her snide, sarcastic remarks made the moment all the more worse. I watched, feeling helpless and humiliated, as she skipped out of line and trotted over to stand in front of him.

She didn't even look my way, enamored by his quick, blatant acceptance of her wolf form. She remembered the only other time he'd ever seen her this way, knowingly, on an unfamiliar dirt road outside of La Push. I cringed as the memory played succinctly through her mind: Paula, the slim silver wolf, had lost control of herself, and Julie had phased to protect Beau—just yards from where he stood, paralyzed with terror.

Beau's breathing had grown shallower as Julie crouched in front of him now, her eyes and thoughts careful, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 _Is this reaction real?_ she wondered, _Or is he still processing?_

For an instant, she hesitated, picturing him running, screaming his head off, across the field.

"Jules?" Beau murmured shakily.

Deep in her chest, Julie giggled—stunned and flattered by his captivation.

I watched, realizing I wasn't breathing, as Beau lifted his hand and buried his fingers in the fur on the side of her face.

The bliss was so complete in her mind— _He's touching me! Willingly!_ —that her awareness of anything but him slipped entirely from her notice.

 _Beau,_ she sighed, and I could _swear_ she was purring.

What was wrong with me? Why was I just standing here, letting this happen, watching with just as much astonishment as my family?

It was mortifying!

Just then, Julie's thoughts turned mischievous, and before I could read her intentions fully, she _licked_ him!

"Agh!" Beau shouted in disgust, leaping back out of her reach. "Nasty, Jules!"

Julie immediately broke into laughter.

 _Boy, I got him_ _ **good**_ _!_

Beau's eyes were wide with indignant shock, and then, much to my horror, he began to laugh, too. "Seriously—you're gonna pay for that," he chuckled.

 _Ugh—that is just_ _ **sick**_ **,** Archie thought.

 _Seriously?_ Eleanor was stunned with disbelief. _You're just gonna let her mark her territory all over your man like that?!_

Myself and my family weren't the only ones having a difficult time processing what was occurring right in front of their eyes.

 _Okay—that's just downright revolting. That kid reeks of vampire, and she just licked him!_

 _Girl, you have completely lost your mind._

 _Ugh…_

The last thought was simply a wordless shudder of disgust.

Julie laughed at her pack's horror-struck thoughts.

 _Everyone, let's move out,_ Samantha called then, _Go home and get some rest._

As the rest of the wolves turned to leave, I noted that Julie had not moved from the spot she stood. Emma and Quinn hesitated on the fringe of the trees, waiting for her, not wanting to leave her alone.

 _C'mon, Jules, let's go._

 _I'm exhausted,_ Quinn complained.

 _Go ahead without me,_ Julie said to them, _I'll be there in a sec. I just have to take care of something first._

Of course, as soon as she thought that, I read her objectives, and I sighed—entirely not in the mood for dealing with her demands. Beau was spent, and there was nothing I wanted to do more in this moment than to get him home, in bed, and curl up in his arms while he slept soundly for the next six or seven hours.

I stepped to his side and wound my fingers through his. "Ready to go?" I asked softly.

 _Hold on,_ Julie interrupted, _I wanna know where Beau's gonna be during the fight._

"I haven't quite figured that out yet," I told her.

 _Leave him with me. I'll hang out with him. We'll camp out in the woods._

"Wouldn't you like that?" I muttered under my breath, and then louder I said, "It's more complex than that, Julie. Don't worry; I'll make sure it's safe."

"What are you talking about?" Beau asked, his voice weighed down with fatigue.

"It's nothing," I soothed him, "Just discussing strategy."

 _No, no, no,_ Julie complained, _This is his life, too, and you don't get to decide what he does and doesn't know. I'm so_ _ **sick**_ _of you doing that! Quit treating him like he's made of spun glass or something!_

Before I could stop her, she turned and loped into the cover of the trees.

Beau stared after her, confused and a little forlorn.

"She'll be back," I told him, "She just wants to be able to talk for herself."

Thirty seconds later, she was jogging back toward us, dressed in a pair of joggers, the elastic hems hiked up below the knee and nothing more than a black sports bra. I felt my eyes narrow disapprovingly at her lack of modesty.

"So, if that doesn't work for you, _princess,_ " she said before she'd reached us, "Why not leave him on the rez? Colleen and Brandy are staying behind anyway; they can watch him."

"Are you talking about me?" Beau frowned suspiciously.

"I'm just trying to figure out where you'll be during the fight," she told him.

"Clearly you can't stay in Forks," I added, "If someone managed to slip by us, they'd go right to you."

Panic flashed in his eyes. "What about Charlie?"

"Bonnie's already committed to doing whatever it takes to get him down there," Julie reassured him. "I don't think it'll take much—there's a game on Saturday."

"Hiding you is just a precaution," I reminded him gently, jumping in. "Like I said before, it'll be effortless. There won't be enough of them to keep us entertained."

"So, what about La Push?" Julie repeated. _Quit being so stubborn. You know he'd be safe there._

"He's been back and forth too much," I disagreed. Had she forgotten they had his _scent_? Had she forgotten they'd be _tracking him_? "He has scent trails all over the place. He has to be someplace hard to find, just in case. I'm not taking any chances."

Julie considered this, her eyes drifting to the edge of the clearing as she catalogued the many areas of the forest she'd become so familiar with over the past few months. As if any of those places were remote enough to avoid a newborn transfixed on his fragrance…

I shook my head, frustrated. "No—his scent is too strong. They would follow it in half a second, and combined with mine, it would be entirely too distinct."

 _Please, spare me the details,_ Julie begged.

"We don't know which path they'll take coming in, because _they_ haven't decided yet, but if they came across his scent before they found us…"

We shuddered in conjunction, both of our imaginations conjuring an image that was only too clear.

"You see my complex."

Julie sighed, gnawing on her lower lip. _Okay, but… Gah, there has to be a way to make it work… What if we…?_ She ran through different tactical ideas in her mind."Hey!" She brightened. "Our scent disgusts you, right?" _Would my smell repel those other vamps enough to mask Beau's scent?_

"That might work," I murmured, "It's worth an attempt, at least."

 _Let's give it a shot right now!_

I turned to where my family was gathered halfway across the field. "Jessamine, would you come over here for a moment?" I called.

 _Of course,_ she thought and headed our way. Archie was right on her heels, his wary eyes on Julie as they approached us. Usually, he would know what I wanted as soon as I caught his attention, having seen me ask the question before I'd said the words, but my idea involved so much of Julie that he couldn't see, and this frustrated him.

"Okay," Julie clapped her hands together excitedly, and then abruptly turned her back to Beau. "Let's do this." She gestured for him to climb on, only to be met with a severe look of confusion on his face.

He looked at me questioningly.

"We're gonna see if my scent can mask yours," she explained before I could, gesturing impatiently again. "Come on, I don't have all day," she joked.

Beau frowned.

"Or do you wanna go wolf-back?"

This seemed to make his decision for him, and I couldn't deny my pleasure as he clambered onto the girl's back, clearly hesitantly, frowning deeply.

Julie rolled her eyes at me. _Don't look so pleased._

I turned to Jessamine. "Since Beau's scent is so much more potent to me, I was wondering if you would attempt to track him, instead? I thought it would be more equitable that way."

"Ah." Jessamine nodded. "Of course."

With Beau securely on her back, Julie took off at an easy lope into the woods. I tried not to let my eyes follow their retreat, but it couldn't be helped. The only consolation was that Beau did not look pleased to be riding on her back.

 _You know, she really reeks,_ Jessamine thought when they were gone, _You really owe me for this._ And then she smirked, making it clear that she was joking.

A few moments later, when I saw Beau and Julie reenter the clearing about fifty feet west, Jessamine and Archie headed into the forest.

I immediately darted to where Beau was struggling to free himself from Julie's hold.

"You can let me down now," he was saying.

"Let's not chance messing up the experiment," she teased, knowing there was no need to keep him so close anymore.

I was about to say something when she relinquished her hold, and Beau slid down onto the grass, damp with dawn's dew.

He immediately stalked toward me, a scowl on his face. Jess and Archie returned to my side in the same instant. As soon as he was by my side, he slid an arm around my waist, and the pleasure ignited small detonations of delight inside my chest.

Julie was just a few feet behind him, seeming unbothered and aloof, though her insecure, disappointed thoughts betrayed her. To know she was just a little humiliated by Beau's blatant lack of joy in their little romp eased some of my own from earlier.

"So?" Beau said.

Jess barely glanced at the wolf girl's face before turning her eyes on Beau. "As long as you don't touch anything, no one will want to come anywhere _near_ that stench to catch your trail. It was almost entirely indiscernible."

"One hundred percent success," Archie concurred, making a face. He must have seen the trepidation on my face because he said, _Guaranteed. We know Beau's scent better than anyone—no matter how many dirty socks they sniff._

"And it gave me an idea," Jessamine added brightly.

"Which will work," Archie confirmed, winding an arm around his wife's waist as he remembered the vision that had played out while they'd tracked Julie's scent, far enough away so that he could see—Beau tromping through the woods, trailing his hands over various surfaces, using his scent to lead the randy pack of newborns straight to this very clearing. And as a result, the reasoning for the newborns' disbanding became clearer as the vision of their advance played again, with more confidence. One group grew nearer, where we waited; and the other abruptly cut off into blackness.

 _Perfect!_

"Very clever," I praised my sister.

"Doesn't that drive you nuts?" Julie asked Beau.

"You mean the one-sided conversation thing, so no one but them knows what on earth they're talking about…? Meh."

I turned to Beau to explain. "We're going to have you leave a false trail to the clearing, where we'll be waiting for the newborns. Archie's sure that it'll work. When they catch _our_ scent, they'll split up into two groups and attempt to ambush us. Half will go through the forest, where his vision goes abruptly blank—"

" _Yes_!" Julie hissed. "Gotcha, _suckers_!" _Ha, suckers… Get it?_

I found myself smiling at her excitement, appreciative of the unlikely alliance we'd found in each other.

 _Wow, if his scent drives them_ _ **that**_ _crazy, just imagine how easy it'd be if he were here in the clearing…_

"No," I snapped, and immediately, apologies flared in Jessamine's eyes.

She held her hands up, conciliatory. "Of course not. I wasn't really considering it—it was merely a passing thought." _I'm sorry, Edythe._

 _Sure you didn't,_ Archie thought, flicking the end of her plaited hair, _That's why I totally didn't see a two-second vision of it happening… Crazy woman._

"They'd be insane with thirst if he was in the clearing," Jess felt the need to explain, "They wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything but him. They'd be like sitting ducks." She noticed my fierce glare. "Of course—it would never happen, far too dangerous—just an errant thought, like I said." _You can't blame me for strategizing,_ she thought with an air of complaint.

"Not a chance in hell," I finalized.

She sighed, finally giving up on the thought. _I'm truly sorry._

"Hey," Archie picked up Jessamine's hand, "Wanna get a little more practice in? Make it best two out of three?"

Easily, he deflated the tension, and the two of them headed off.

Julie stared after them, arms folded over her chest, eyes narrowed. _Nice family,_ she thought, _Really putting Beau's safety first!_

"Jessamine looks at things from a military perspective," I found myself advocating, "She considers every option—meticulousness in favor of geniality."

She snorted. _Right. Didn't stop you from wanting to tear her hair out for a sec, though._

I tried to quash my smile, not quite successful. "We'll lay the false trail on Friday afternoon. I know a place we can hide out. If you meet us here afterward, you two can meet me there. It's entirely off the map, and easily defensible—not that it will come to that."

"And you're just gonna… What? Dump him there and leave him all by himself?"

"What else?"

Julie grinned, smug. "I'm glad you asked…" _Sarah's fresh to the pack. Since you're so sure there won't be any need for defensive measures… She could keep him company. Nothing better for her to do… She'd jump at the opportunity to help somehow._

"I would feel more comfortable with that arrangement, certainly."

"Sweet." Julie eagerly pivoted on her heel to face Beau. "So we've been trying to talk Sarah into staying behind with the younger two—she's really still too young—but she's not sold on the idea. So…" She opened her hands. "Cell phone."

Beau's brow knit with confusion. "Huh?"

"As long as Sarah is in her wolf form, she'll be able to communicate with the pack, and therefore, us," I elaborated for him. "Are there any issues with distance?" I asked Julie.

"Nope." She popped the 'p', proudly recalling a time when they'd tested their limits.

"Three hundred miles?" I pondered. "That's remarkable."

"Yep."

As difficult as the concept of leaving Beau in the hands of a newly-changed _dog_ seemed, I couldn't deny that the idea brought me a sense of closure. I'd wondered for weeks how I would keep him safe—and here the solution had been presented to me on a silver platter. Granted, a pair of reeking, filthy paws had handed it to me… But all the same, it was an auspicious solution.

"To think it's come to trusting _werewolves..._ " I mused to myself.

"Working with bloodsuckers," Julie agreed, "My grandmother would be shocked…!"

"You'll probably get to slay more vampires than any tribe's ever been able to," I pointed out.

"True." Julie grinned, her mind filling with the grotesque, vibrant images of flying vampire parts. "I guess there's a bright side to everything."

.

 **A/N:** And there we go! I love exploring the pack mind—it's fun. And the dynamic between Leo and Jules is just… Aw. It's too fun. I had always shipped Leah and Jacob before Renesmee came into the picture—so… We'll see where this AU goes with things… Eh? _Eh_?

I've been writing some stuff from Jules's POV and it's very interesting and captivating, but I'm trying to set that aside for now because hers and Edythe's inner monologing styles are very, very different, and I don't want to get confused haha. I'm still debating over whether I want to add her view of things into Breaking Dawn—though I won't be doing what SM did and dedicate a whole middle part to her, don't worry.

As always, I would love to know your thoughts on this chapter! Love you all so much! xo


	16. Priorities

**A/N:** So, I'll just warn you guys now that the timeline of the proposal and the nature of 'Compromise' is going to be a little different from the original. I thought I'd give you all a heads-up so I don't get flack when Beau doesn't propose next chapter ;) It just doesn't make sense at this point in time. I hope you all understand that!

(P.S. Thanks to AnonVamp for corrected Lee's 'given' name by SM. I appreciate it! I always want to stay true to canon and such, so I definitely will be correcting that!)

.

Beau's breathing had barely slowed before he began to ramble in his sleep, tossing and turning. At first it was just incoherent mumbling, gibberish. But as time went on, his words became clearer and it was obvious he was worrying about the upcoming battle.

"Don't go," he said, his forehead scrunching with concern. "Too dangerous."

He rolled, one arm flopping limply over the side of the bed, and my eye caught the new accessory around his wrist. It was a bracelet made from braided cord—leather, it looked like, and as I peered closer, I saw the charm dangling from it. When I'd first glimpsed it at the graduation party, I'd assumed it was a gift from one of his friends, but when I saw the tiny wolf carving, I knew in an instant who had gifted him the bracelet.

It was carved from a very obvious russet-colored wood, and I rolled my eyes.

 _Very subtle, Julie._

An unreasonable swell of jealousy overtook me then. Not only had he accepted the gift from her, but he'd put it on right away… Why couldn't he accept gifts from me with the same ease and nonchalance?

I frowned to myself, the uncomfortable swirl of envy rising like acid behind my sternum.

"No… Edythe, no…" Beau mumbled, rolling to bury his face in the side of my neck. He gripped me tightly, his fingers fisting in the material of my top. "Stay… Stay with me… Don't want you to… Get hurt… Protect you… How…?"

I exhaled softly, the jealousy abruptly dissipating in favor of the tenderness that flooded my heart. I ran my fingers softly through his hair, hoping to ease him away from the nightmares that were plaguing him.

"Jules," he whispered in the next moment, and in a flash, the envy returned, "Don't…! Just girls… Too young! You'll _die_!" Each unconscious phrase grew in volume until he was practically shouting in my ear.

"Shh," I soothed him, stroking his cheek as Charlie stirred in the next room. "I'm here, Beau, I'm here…"

He sighed contentedly, softly, his warm breath condensing on the cold skin of my throat. Involuntarily, I shivered with delight. "Edythe… Mine… Safe," he mumbled, pulling me closer once more.

"Yes, I'm yours," I promised him.

In the next room, Charlie's thoughts turned resolved and I heard the bedsprings creak as he sat up. It was still a few minutes until his alarm clock would ring, but apparently Beau had woken him. He shuffled around in the other room, and then padded down the hallway to the bathroom. A moment later, the shower turned on.

Beau's breaths came faster. "Please," he gasped, "Don't. Not them… Take me…" I squeezed my eyes tight, clutching him closer—if only I could protect him from his nightmares, wherein even he felt the need to sacrifice himself for the sake of the supernatural.

If only there was a way to convince him we would prevail… If only there was a way to _show_ him, to prove it to him… But I knew there would be no way to do such a thing.

"No!" he croaked, "Not them! Don't _hurt_ them!"

I tried to slow my own breathing, quickening in response to his unconscious pain.

"I'm right _here_!" he continued, and I pressed my cheek mournfully into the top of his head. "You want me… _Me,_ not her…!"

Even in his sleep, he was struggling toward absolution—willing to sacrifice his own humanity to keep the rest of us safe…

"Help… I have to help… _Do_ something," he murmured into my skin. I stroked his back, trying to comfort him, wishing away the bad dreams.

"The third husband," he whispered after awhile, "Brave… Strong… _Human_ …" I had no idea what that meant, and felt my eyebrows pull together in confusion.

After that, the bad dreams seemed to leave him. The next couple of hours passed in relative silence, aside from the occasional toss and turn of his flailing limbs.

Charlie left for work, and the sun burned away the haze of clouds. For a couple of hours, Beau seemed to sleep more soundly, relaxing as the sun spliced through his window and shimmered off my skin. I watched the rainbows refract across his face, and admired the tranquility in his visage.

I feared the possibility of his self-sacrificing ideas, conjured even in sleep. I hoped his nocturnal musings wouldn't stick, or give him any conscious ideas. Putting himself in harm's way to help us would be the _least_ helpful thing he could do.

Would leaving him with Sarah be enough? Would he do something foolish and try to leave her? I was suddenly caught up in the horrible image of Beau stumbling, alone, through the forest in his attempts to find us, and shivered. Could I count on the young girl, barely fifteen, to keep him safe, protected, hidden—even restrained, if it came to that?

"Edythe?"

His voice was soft and scratchy from disuse, his eyelids heavy as he propped himself on one elbow and rubbed the back of his neck groggily.

I smiled as his hand inched across the sheets, searching for me blindly as he squinted against the sunlight streaming through his window. I slid my hand over his.

"Are you really awake this time?" I whispered.

"Think so," he said, pushing himself into a full seated position. "What d'you mean, _this time_?"

"You've been very restless—talking all day."

"Huh," he said, blood pressing underneath his skin. Then he frowned, turning to stare out the window, and then his eyes flickered to his bedside clock. His eyes widened when he saw the time. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You had a very long night. You'd earned a day of rest," I assured him.

He gazed blearily across the room, out the bright window. I took a moment to admire him in all his delicious, half-awake gloriousness. The sunlight glinted off his hair, sparkling in his eyes, impossibly bright cerulean in the afternoon brightness. Such a rarity was the sun in this part of the world—and I was enamored by just how different the color of his eyes could look in the altered luminescence.

"Are you hungry?" I asked him. "I could make you breakfast in bed."

"I'll get it," he said immediately, and I suppressed my exasperated sigh. Just another example of the things he wouldn't allow me to do for him. I eyed the bracelet Julie had given him surreptitiously as he stood, stretching his arms over his head. As he did so, the hem of his white t-shirt rode up a bit, revealing a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans.

I suddenly felt warm and flushed with desire, and I averted my eyes quickly.

Downstairs, he unwrapped a pack of PopTarts and threw them in the toaster. Then he slumped into the seat across from mine at the table, and rubbed his palms over his face. He stared out the window as he waited for his breakfast to heat, suddenly appearing lost in thought.

My throat felt suddenly tight with apprehension, and I wondered if he was thinking about his nightmares again.

The uneasiness intensified when the toaster popped, and he didn't seem to notice. I went to the counter and dished the tarts onto a plate. When I set them in front of him, he blinked, glancing down.

"Oh, uh, thanks," he said.

I took one of his hands as he picked up his breakfast with the other. I searched for a way to distract myself, my eyes falling on the little wolf charm again.

"So, Julie Black can give you presents," I said as casually as I could, though I didn't think I sounded as cavalier as I'd wanted to. There was a strange lump in my throat, and a fitful ghost of injustice, and even pain, fluttering in my stomach. The words continued to spill from my lips, and I was powerless to stop them. "I just can't help to notice the inconsistencies. Why is that everyone but me is allowed to give you things? I would have liked to get you a graduation present, but I knew it would only upset you if I had… Why is that?"

Beau stared blankly at me for a moment, seeming speechless. His face flooded with color, and when his eyes fell away from mine, skirting the table, it was almost unbearable.

"Because," he muttered hesitantly, and I was relieved when he lifted his eyes back to mine. "Because _I_ want to be the one to give you things… I want to do things for you."

For a moment, I didn't know how to respond—because what could I say to that? Didn't he realize he'd given me _everything_? Purpose, more love than my heart could possibly hold, he'd given me the impossible— _hope._

"But you've given me everything, Beau," I argued, leaning forward to cradle his face in my hands. " _Everything._ There's nothing more I could ask of you, because you've given it all already. What more could I ask for?"

I had meant it as a rhetorical question, but Beau's mouth opened then, as if he were going to give me an answer. Just then, my buzzing cell phone interrupted us.

I didn't really _need_ to glance down at the number. Archie had promised to keep an extra close eye on Beau's future, and I could only suspect what sort of decisive thoughts might be making their rounds in Beau's head this morning, after the nightmares he'd been having while he slept.

"Hi, Archie." I sighed softly, disinclined to really know what he had to say, but also desperately _needing_ the crucial information.

"If he keeps this nonsense up, I might need a second car or something for my efforts… You might have to tie him to a tree the day of the battle," he informed me. "It's been awhile since he's had so little regard for his own life, so it kinda took me off-guard, y'know, but it's been skittering around in that stupid little head of his for a couple days. But it's a more clear plan today."

"Hmm."

"I keep seeing him, you know, stumbling around like his usually clumsy self in the forest… But he never reaches the clearing. Or, there's also this brilliant plan of slicing through his arm he thought of." I could almost see him roll his eyes.

I glanced over at Beau, who was fidgeting in his seat, nervous and bright red.

"Oh—and by the way, they're down to nineteen today," Archie added. "Picking themselves off for us; there'll be hardly anything left for us to do by the time Saturday comes along. Anyway—I just figured you should know Beau's being a total idiot about this."

"I sort of assumed," I told him, arching an accusing brow at Beau, which only made his face go hotter. "He was talking in his sleep." Beau stopped chewing, his eyes going wide. He knew he'd been caught, and it was obvious now that his schemes were not purely unconscious.

"Just try and get it through that thick skull of his that his ideas really aren't so great. And while you're at it, give him a good—"

"I'll take care of it," I cut my brother off, and then shut the phone. I took a minute to compose myself as I set it very softly on the table, and then folded my hands together in front of me. When I lifted my eyes to Beau's face, his cheeks were still rosy, and he was avoiding my glare.

He swallowed loudly.

I felt my eyes narrow. "You're in trouble, and you know it," I accused him.

He didn't answer for a minute, seeming to deliberate. Was he considering lying to me? Did he know I'd be able to see directly through his falsehoods? A thousand emotions floated through the ocean of his eyes before, finally, concession surfaced.

"I think Jessamine's idea would work," he finally said.

Frustrated, a low hiss slid through my teeth. I bit back all the words I wanted to say.

"I need to do something to _help_ ," he insisted, "I can't just sit back and watch you put your life at _risk_ for me…" His voice cracked, real emotion showing on his face, and my frustration abruptly vanished.

"Beau," I murmured, leaning toward him, "There's no point in putting you in the path of unnecessary danger. I already said it's going to be _easy_ —I just wish you would trust me when I say that it's better for you to stay away."

Anger flashed in his viridian eyes. "Maybe I'll be there anyway. Maybe I'll get Sarah to help me. I bet she'd help me find you; she doesn't want to just sit back while her family fights for their lives, either."

I couldn't help but smirk. He was so confident in his assumption that he would find his way around this. He had no idea. "That might have worked in your favor—if you hadn't told me. Now I can just ask Samantha to give Sarah certain orders. As much as she'd like to, Sarah won't be able to ignore that kind of embargo."

Beau's poker face was impeccable. "Samantha might see the benefit of my being there, if I told her Jessamine's plan. She might see things her way. You never know."

I fought back an incensed hiss. Yes, maybe the wolves _would_ see the benefit in letting Beau distract the newborns… All except one, that is.

"Then I'll talk to Julie."

"Jules?" This wiped the smugness clean off his face, confusion surfacing in his eyes.

Considering her fascination with flaunting her stuff, I was surprised to find that she hadn't told Beau of her natural birthright. What was the point in keeping that from him? I was momentarily distracted by the confusion, before I forced myself to focus once more.

"Julie is second in command—Beta, they call her. Her orders have to be followed, too."

Beau shook his head stubbornly. "She'll see it my way," he insisted.

I glared, my composure falling away. "You do realize it would kill me to see you hurt—it would quite literally destroy me. You don't seem to care so much about your own life, but _I_ do."

"Ditto for me, Edythe. You can't just expect me to let you march off to battle, not knowing if you'll survive."

Sometimes it was so entirely aggravating to be in love with one of the most stubborn men on the planet…

"Don't act like we're taking even _close_ to the same risk as you would by being there! You're _human_ , Beau. You're fragile and mortal and _soft_. You don't have the luxury of knowing how your enemies plan to kill you and being able to combat that. You don't have the benefit of super strength or supernatural speed. The only way your outcome is guaranteed is if you stay away!" My breaths came too fast, strident and noisy.

"You don't think I feel the same way?" Beau nearly shouted. "I can't _lose_ you! Don't make me go through that again! I've already gone crazy once, and I know I wouldn't survive it a second time!"

His admission stunned me into silence. It wasn't often we spoke of the time I'd been away. I suspected he didn't want me to know how much pain I'd put him through when I left him last fall. As blissful as it would be to remain ignorant to the heartbreaking effect I'd had on him, it just wasn't possible. Beau's classmates and friends, even Charlie, but especially Julie, had shown me, time and time again, how he'd crumbled in my absence.

The amount of weight he'd lost, the constant black circles under his eyes, the void in his eyes… And more, the inexplicable ghostliness Julie had seen in him. His hesitance to speak of me or my family, his lack of interest in anything that had held his fancy before—he hadn't read books, he'd stopped listening to music. It had taken months for her to see even the resemblance of animation come back into his eyes.

I knew what I'd put him through, and to imagine he saw the same thing coming now, it speared me through with inescapable remorse.

"No, no, no," I murmured, and the next thing I knew, I was in his lap, stroking his hair, his face, his arms, his hands, "I will _never_ leave you again, Beau. Do you understand me? I will never put you through that kind of pain again. For as long as I live, I _will_ try and make those dark months up to you… But this is different, Beau, can't you see? This isn't the same at all… It will be over very quickly, and then we'll be together again."

He refused to look at me, his eyes fixed on the wood grain of the table.

"Don't you believe me?" I pleaded with him. "I'll come back to you—I swear it, Beau. There is nothing in this universe that will ever separate me from you again. Your fears are groundless. It will be _effortless_!"

He was very quiet for a moment, and though I could only see his profile, he seemed to be thinking something through. An emotion I couldn't decipher passed through his eyes, too quickly for me to entirely process.

"Effortless," he finally murmured quietly, "So easy there won't be enough for you all to do, you keep saying… So easy… someone could sit out?"

I recognized my words from the other night. "Yes," I agreed vehemently, eager to soothe his anxieties. "Exactly."

There was another pause, and I suddenly felt suspicious. When he lifted his eyes to mine, there was something there behind the sudden resolve that I didn't understand.

"If that's true," he said, "Then prove it."

I felt the confusion on my face. How was I to prove something like that? I thought there must be something very obvious that I was missing.

"Sit out with me," he said, and everything fell into place then. "If you won't let me be there, stay with me. Where I know you're safe."

Beau had never requested a single thing of me— _ever_. Now, he was asking for the unthinkable. It was clear he was aware of the gravity of his question; the unfathomable emotion in his eyes was clearly decipherable guilt, now that I knew. He'd been there to hear my family's anxiety over our lack of numbers, he knew every one of our assistance was absolutely required.

And yet… He was asking me not to fight. Despite the way I knew he cared for my family, he was willing to put them all in danger for the sake of keeping _me_ alone safe. It was undeniably selfish, and undeniably quixotic. How could I abandon my family in a time of such great need? How could I betray them in this way? How could I leave them without one of their most reliable fighters?

But as I forced myself to turn the situation around in my mind—if I were the human, and Beau in my place… Could I let him go where I could not be? Could I stand not knowing if he'd come back to me or not, no matter how much he assured me he'd be okay?

I examined his face carefully, wondering how much thought he'd given this ultimatum. I could see the potent, unveiled fear in his eyes, and I could feel his arms tight around me, gripping me close, and I knew his decisions had been ruled by this fear—the fear of losing me, the fear of experiencing the heartbreak and emptiness he'd experienced last winter. But he'd spoken so vehemently of the safety of the pack, the safety of the remainder of my family in his sleep… He had to have realized the kind of risk they'd be in without my aid…

"Are you… Are you asking me to let them fight without my help?" The question escaped as a mere whisper. I could not infuse any more volume into my frozen vocal chords.

He didn't say a word, but he didn't have to. The confirmation was there in his eyes, steadily winding into a hurricane, twisting with the guilt, the fear, the pain.

I understood in an instant. It was his love for me that would keep me from the battle. He'd offered time and time again to risk his own life to guarantee ours, but I'd vetoed that decision, so he'd set his priorities straight and decided to guarantee mine alone. He was protecting me the only way he knew how—the only way he _could_ in his human state.

It would be heartrending to lose any member of my family. It would break my heart. But it wouldn't destroy me like losing Beau would. And I knew it would be the same for him. In this moment, I held nothing against him. I could see how difficult it had been for him to ask this of me. The shame in his eyes became more and more apparent as the seconds passed.

I tried not to let him see the pain in my face when I imagined any one of my siblings or parents losing their mate, their lifelong companion, but I didn't think I hid my expression well enough. It was a dark realization, to know we would never be the same again if any one of my family members were lost to the fight. If Archie lost Jess, if El lost Royal… They would never forgive me. They would never forgive Beau, and we would never be the same again…

But I knew, I _knew_ beyond comprehension of a doubt, that I would be willing to risk that all for the sake of Beau's safety. There was nothing, _nothing_ in this world that mattered to me more than he did. Not my past, not my friends, not the family I'd lived with for a century, not my own life. It was and always had been _Beau_. There was no question.

I clung to the depth of devotion I could see in Beau's eyes, using it to firm my confidence, and then I reached for the phone I'd left on the table. I dialed the number without taking my eyes off Beau's face. I needed to go talk to Jessamine.

"Yo."

"Archie, could you come keep an eye on Beau for a while? I need to speak with Jessamine."

"I'll be there in a flash, and I'll let Jess know you're on your way." I could hear the weight behind his words, and knew he'd seen the play out of Beau's request. For now, he kept his opinions to himself, and I was glad for it.

"What are you going to talk to Jessamine about?" Beau asked me when I hung up the phone.

"I'm going to discuss the merits of my sitting out," I told him. "If there is going to be a change to our strategy, I'm going to need to run it by her first."

He stared down at me, his eyes suddenly damp. I sighed, pressing my forehead to his, knowing how hard this was for him.

"I feel like I'm making you choose between me and your family," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I shook my head and pulled back so I could see his eyes. "They'll be fine," I said as firmly as I could, and I didn't know whether I was attempting to convince him, or myself. "They know what they're doing."

I nodded a little to myself, trying to conjure the image of their success in my mind. I couldn't make _that_ much of a difference to their standings, but I wouldn't know for sure until I spoke to Jessamine.

"Too bad you're gonna miss all the fun." Archie's voice sounded from the doorway. "Chances like these don't come around very often. You sure you're willing to wait another hundred years?"

"Hello, Archie," I greeted my brother without taking my eyes from Beau's face. I leaned in to kiss him goodbye. He kissed me back, which I took as a good sign. "I'll see you in just a couple of hours. I'll go work this out with the others, rearrange things."

"Okay," he said, sulking just a bit. As I climbed out of his lap, I smoothed the crease between his eyebrows.

"Not much to arrange," Archie informed me, "I already briefed them. Eleanor's thrilled, of course."

"Of course. More fun for her," I responded as I gathered my phone and bag.

 _You're worrying about nothing,_ he assured me as I headed for the door, _They're not nearly as upset about this as you think they are…_

I hoped that was true.

.

El met me at the door, slinging an arm over my shoulders and shaking me playfully.

"You're a good sister, you know that?"

I arched an eyebrow at her.

"You really take my fun into consideration!" she continued as she ushered me inside.

Her easygoing attitude already had me feeling at ease. "Don't get your hopes too high," I cautioned her, rolling my eyes, "Archie doesn't think there'll be very many left by the time they get to us."

Eleanor frowned, put out, as I shrugged out from underneath her arm.

The rest of my family was waiting in the living room for me.

 _Are you okay with this?_

 _You're seriously gonna let him rope you into sitting out of this?_

 _We'll be just fine without you, Edythe. Don't concern yourself for our sake._

I sighed, lowering myself onto the edge of the couch as I processed their thoughts.

"Our family understands your viewpoint," Carine assured me. "Any of us would make the same sacrifice for our mates."

"Thank you, Carine," I told her, but turned my eyes to Jessamine. Hers was the opinion that mattered.

To my great surprise, she didn't seem displeased whatsoever. "We'll be fine, Edythe," she assured me. "With the wolves taking half our opponents away from us, it will almost be effortless… And I know that doesn't ease your concerns, but believe me when I tell you the rest of us will be okay."

Across the room, Royal snorted indignantly. _He starts all this trouble for us in the first place, and then just expects us to clean it up for him?_

My eyes flashed to my brother's face, and I felt my lips pull back from my teeth. "How about you stop being a coward, Royal, and say that out loud?"

His golden eyes, ablaze with anger, flashed to my face. "What?" he snapped, "Am I wrong to be upset about it? Am I wrong to be concerned for my wife's safety, just as you're concerned for his? Can't you see this from my viewpoint for one second?"

"Roy…" Earnest chided.

"No!" he interjected, "She needs to know. If this ends badly, I'm blaming _him_." He focused his haughty glare on me. "It's selfish of him, is what it is. _He_ can't fight with us, so he's taking one of our best fighters out of our ranks. It's despicable."

No one ground my gears as much as Royal did, and the flames of outrage grew quickly, catching on the kindling that was my shame and unease. "You know what?" I snapped, taking a few steps toward him, "I've about had enough of your griping. How could you put the blame on Beau's shoulders when you know he didn't cause any of this! Are you really that shallow?"

"It's not just his life on the line!" he snarled.

"You don't think I _know_ that?! You don't think I feel awful for stepping out on all of you like this?"

"If you had anything resembling a _spine_ —"

"That's enough," Carine snapped. "Royal, you've overstepped your bounds. You're entitled to your opinion, but you will not let Edythe feel poorly for prioritizing Beau's safety. It's what any of us would do for our mates."

Royal's eyes were wide with his naked rage. His thoughts were a flurry of childish expostulation and insult. He clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles working, and then he turned to stomp angrily from the room, slamming the back door behind him as he retreated toward the river.

 _He'll come around,_ Eleanor thought confidently.

"He's very upset," I murmured to myself as I watched him stride across the lawn.

"He's _Royal_ ," Jessamine conceded, rolling her eyes. _Ignore him. He's just as committed as before. He's just a sour puss._

I nodded, trying to convince myself. Jessamine felt my lack of confidence and shame.

"Edy—we'll be _fine_."

"How can I know that?" I demanded, turning wide, panicked eyes on her. "If any of you are distracted, if any of you are less than focused, even the smallest bit unsure, you could slip up so easily. And if you slip up—"

"We _won't_. Everyone's picked up on their training very well. By Archie's standards we'll have nine, maybe ten to deal with. The wolves will get the others, and we'll take out the rest. It's nothing."

"But—"

"Look, here's the way I think of it. Why worry about something you can't change? Your priority is Beau; it always will be. Please don't feel guilty about putting his welfare first. I can't say things wouldn't be easier without you there, but I _can_ say it won't be hard."

I hesitated.

"You have nothing to worry about," she said again, pulling me close for a quick squeeze. "Don't let Royal's babyish ways get you down… Now, go send Archie home for me, will you? I think we've chatted long enough to let him say what he needed to say to Charlie."

I pulled back, giving her a questioning look.

"He's just making sure Beau's schedule is clear for the next couple of days," she said, completely blasé, "The rest of us will be off hunting."

"And Beau will be…?"

"Here. As far as Charlie's concerned, Archie's staying behind due to some iron-deficiency cramps or something, and Beau's gonna keep him company. In actuality, it'll just be the two of you—spending some hard-earned quality alone time together. Talking about—whatever. You know."

It was clear she was suddenly hiding something for me. She was busy reciting poetry—backwards—in her head.

I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Have lots of fun," she requested brightly, something else coloring her mental tone—but she was doing a good job of blocking me from reading it. Then she leaped over the porch railing and bounded across the lawn, a lioness in action, before I could ask her anymore.

I sighed, a little exasperated but mostly relieved, as I turned back toward Forks.

When I reached the porch steps, I could hear the three of them laughing inside, discussing Archie's plans for the summer, and then college in the fall.

When I knocked on the door, Beau rushed with the typical amount of eagerness to greet me. Tranquility had returned to his eyes, and I was glad I had been able to do something to contribute to that. He'd been far too wrought with trepidation in these last few days and weeks.

"Archie said you're heading off with your family in the morning—annual camping trip," Charlie said when we walked into the kitchen together.

"Yep!" I chirped, "Happens every year. Too bad my brother will have to miss out this time." I grinned cheekily at him.

"Good thing Beau'll be here to keep him company. You all have a good time," he told me, and I sensed some sort of change in the murky fog of Charlie Swan's mind. I wondered if he was finally going to forgive me for the way I'd broken his son's heart. I still hadn't had the chance to have my discussion with him, and it suddenly felt very important. Time was running out, and I was beginning to see that there were many more ends to tie than I had formerly realized—for me _and_ Beau.

"Thank you," I said sincerely to him. "We should actually be on our way," I continued, giving the microwave clock a cursory glance for appearance's sake. "We'll be leaving early in the morning."

"'Course," Charlie said, "Go home and rest up."

Archie's mental atmosphere was just as secretive as my sister's had been, and I gave him a quizzical glance as we walked out to the Volvo together.

"What is with you two tonight?" I harrumphed, because I already knew he'd tell me nothing.

Archie chuckled as I tossed him the keys. "I just think you two are going to have a wonderful time tomorrow night, is all."

I glared at him. "Why do you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like… There's a double meaning to your words or something."

Archie was suddenly very focused on his Mandarin translation of the book he'd been reading recently. He turned his back to me and began to swagger across the street.

"Archie!" I huffed, stomping my foot.

"'Night, Edy!" he trilled, and headed off down the street before I could push him anymore.

I sighed. Obviously I was getting nowhere with this.

Resigned and frustrated—because I hated being in the dark almost as much as my insanely annoying brother did—I headed up to Beau's room. I stretched out on my front on the bed while I waited for him. He chatted with his father for a few short minutes, but excused himself soon after.

When he came upstairs, I was flipping through one of the books from his shelf—Salinger's _Catcher in the Rye._

"I haven't read that one in years," he commented when he closed the door behind him. He came to sit on the floor by my head.

"Neither have I," I teased, smiling at him as I shut the book, "Not since its original publication."

"Ha ha," Beau intoned sarcastically. "When are we meeting up with the wolves?"

"Midnight."

He nodded thoughtfully to himself. "That'll give them some downtime, at least."

"They don't need as much sleep as you do," I informed him. According to my research, most human males Beau's age needed an average of seven hours of sleep per night. I wondered if he knew the pack could condense all the rest they needed into a mere three or four hours?

Beau shrugged and quickly moved on—probably intuitive of my coming suggestion that he stay home tonight. "Did Archie tell you he's taking me hostage again?"

I grinned so wide at his sullen expression that I felt my dimples pop out. "Actually, he's not." This confused him, and I giggled softly at his wide-eyed bafflement—still as charming as it had been in the beginning. "I am. Archie will be taking my place in the hunting party, since it seems I won't be required to go now."

Beau blinked. "Huh," he said simply, and then lapsed into silence. His cheeks and ears were effervescent with color, and I recognized the familiar mask of concentration on his face.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, "Except for one thing."

I couldn't fight the anxiety that shot like a cold chill up the back of my neck. Had I been too presumptuous to assume he would want to spend a night alone with me? I knew it would be different, in an empty house with no snoring Charlie in the next room… Was he having doubts?

"What thing?" I asked nervously.

"Well," he said, lifting his eyes to mine, "I just wondered why Archie didn't say you were leaving _tonight_."

And just like that, the apprehension washed away in a warm bath of liberation. I laughed, relieved.

.

The wolves would still need me to translate, so we headed out to the clearing again a little while later.

The thoughts of my family members were confident and serene—mostly. Royal was still a little acerbic. But to know they weren't worried eased _my_ disquiet, and as I linked my hand with Beau's as we crossed the field, I sighed contentedly.

I still felt guilty, not quite able to shake the unsettling guilt that rose up when I thought of my family fighting alone, but I supposed I had to trust Jessamine's judgment when she said they were fine. I might know their thoughts, but she knew they deeper emotions and intuition; and unlike their thoughts, they couldn't lie with their feelings.

Beau noticed Julie right away.

"Where are the rest of the wolves?" he asked when he saw only the beta and her two lackeys.

"They don't all need to be here—the pack mind makes things easy that way. One would certainly be enough, but Samantha doesn't trust us enough to just send Julie, though _she_ would have certainly been fine with coming alone. Quinn and Emma are her usual companions."

He was quiet for a beat as we walked, and then he said quietly, "Julie trusts you." It wasn't a question, and he sounded pleased by this knowledge.

"Yes," I told him, "Enough to believe we won't kill her. Her trust doesn't extend beyond that, however."

 _Oh, please,_ Julie groaned inwardly, _Don't try and make it seem like you don't feel the same way._

I shrugged one shoulder as we reached my family.

"Are you joining in on the practicing tonight?" Beau asked nervously. I could hear the guilt saturate his tone again, and made sure my voice was particularly casual when I responded.

"I'll help Jessamine demonstrate when she requires the assistance. She wants to try some unequal groupings—two- and three-on-ones—to teach them how to deal with multiple attackers."

Beau's breath caught at this, and when I looked up at him, the sweep of panic across his face was clear as day. I immediately wished I could rescind my words; we were taking extra precautions tonight, and we probably wouldn't even require this particular set of skills, so I didn't know why I'd divulged that information. The chances that one of my family members would be outnumbered were unlikely, and it would be a very brief occurrence if it did happen to occur.

A moment later, Julie registered Beau's nervous eyes on her face, skittish and shifting. She heaved her enormous body from the ground, shook out her coat, and loped toward us. As I watched her approach, her tongue lolling out the side of her wolf's muzzle, I got the strong impression of a puppy, eager to play.

"Julie," I greeted her cordially when she reached us.

She ignored my welcome, her eyes still on Beau's face. _What's wrong?_

"I'm fine," he said immediately, shrugging in a casual way that didn't quite come off as nonchalant. I saw through his lie immediately, knowing his face well enough that the pickup of his heart rate that betrayed his lie was secondary to my notice.

 _You're not fine, idiot. I can tell you're nervous… There's nothing to be worried about._

I narrowed my eyes at her, but she didn't see my disapproving expression. She was still looking intently at Beau. "She doesn't want you to worry," I told him softly.

Julie growled softly in irritation. _Nice. Care to twist my words a little more? He can handle being called out when he's being a moron, you know._

Surprising me, unexpected amusement twitched my lips up.

"What?" Beau asked curiously, and I wondered if he knew he was smiling a little—though he didn't know what the joke was about.

"Apparently she's unsatisfied with my censoring," I admitted, "What she really wanted to say was, 'You're not fine, idiot. I can tell you're nervous. There's nothing to be worried about.' I edited, because I thought she was being rather uncouth."

Beau smiled a little, and Julie, the expression unmistakable even on her wolf's face, smirked.

 _See? Told you he could handle it. He even thinks I'm funny!_

He turned to her, the smile still lingering on his lips, but when he spoke, I could hear the nervous edge in his voice. "Obviously you're not worrying enough, so I'll just have to do that for you."

Julie snorted a laugh, halfway between disdain and humor. _Who's worried? We got this in the bag! I was_ _ **born**_ _for this!_

 _Hell yeah!_

 _Preach it, sister!_

 _Edy—we're about ready to get started over here. I wanna try some two-on-ones with you and El. You coming?_

I sighed, annoyed with the automatic caution that made itself apparent in my mind when I thought about leaving Julie and Beau together. The wariness was in no way justifiable, so I tried to push it aside as well as I could.

"Jessamine's ready for me," I said to Beau, "You'll be okay without translation?" I was aware I was stalling, but I just couldn't seem to help it.

He shrugged. "I'll manage."

I hesitated a moment longer, studying his face for any sign of disinclination but finding none. Had he really forgiven her so easily, and why was I so displeased by the idea? Why did it make me so undeniably nervous?

Turning my back on my own bitter inclinations, I bounded across the clearing toward my family, leaving Beau alone with the dog.

.

 **A/N:** It took me awhile to get the Cullens' change-in-strategy conversation right. But I'm mostly satisfied. Sorry it's taking me a little while longer to get chapters up, you guys! You've been so patient with me—thank you.

See you next time! ;) xo


	17. Agreement

**A/N:** This chapter goes about things a little differently, and there is one BIG change that can't ignored, but we'll talk about that at the end. Also, I forewent Edythe's addition to the bracelet, ascertaining she would be more lenient about Julie's gift, and not wanting to push her presence where it's not due. As a female, I don't think she'd be as… Let's say, meddlesome and possessive as Edward was? Hehe.

.

I was trying very hard to let this night, this one night among many spent in fear, confusion and trepidation, be one of peace, tranquility and solitude. I had made it my top priority _not_ to think about what was to come, and to just be content to spend some much needed alone time with Beau.

The rest of my family was gone for the evening, hunting to ensure they'd be at their best for the battle, and so tonight, the house was entirely ours.

My siblings' thoughts had been unusually intelligible in the short time I'd been home. Beau had slept restlessly again the night before. When he woke, he'd seemed abnormally distracted, dropping things, tripping over nothing—more than was typical. He even took some Tylenol to combat one of his headaches, which I suspected was from stress, which he denied.

The emotion in his eyes was so different from the kind of worry I'd seen in his face in the couple of days prior. This was definitely anxiety, but it was so very different from his disquiets over the battle. This uncomfortable energy was more focused, circling tighter around whatever he was undoubtedly ruminating over.

I offered multiple times to lend an ear to whatever was bothering him, but he insisted it was nothing. I thought maybe he might find some respite if I left him alone for a time. So while he prepared for the next couple of evenings—doing a few loads of laundry, throwing some stuff in his bag, preparing a big pan of lasagna for Charlie—I went home to make sure things were ready on my family's end.

Earnest had done another grocery shop the day previous, so the fridge and cupboards were fully stocked with the essentials. I threw the sheets from my bed through a quick wash, though they'd only been slept in once.

And in all this time, my siblings kept their noses strangely out of my business. Some of them—namely Eleanor—apparently couldn't trust themselves enough to be in the house. Again, I had that same uneasy feeling that they were hiding something from me, but I didn't know what it could be.

At first, I had suspected they were merely distracted by the upcoming fight, but when I actually attempted to read some of their thoughts, they were so far from what I'd been expecting, it galled me. Poetry, foreign languages, backward songs and more. Nothing close to the preparation I _thought_ they'd be focusing on.

Archie had mentioned something very briefly to me during our short conversation when I'd arrived home. I was just putting the sheets in the washing machine when he approached me to tell me the army numbers had maintained at nineteen, and he thought we'd get the smaller of the group.

I realized I had continued to group myself in with my family, disregarding the fact it would be _them_ come Saturday, and not _us._

Archie saw the expression on my face and arched an eyebrow at me. "You have got to stop your moping, girl," he told me, "You've got more important things to focus on tonight."

This distracted me. "More important things?" I probed his mind, which was very fixated on reciting the ASL alphabet backwards.

"All I'm gonna say on the subject is this: Let him say what he needs to say, because everyone and their mother knows you want it too, and it's best to approach this kind of thing as a team rather than opponents."

I felt my eyebrows pull together in confusion, and I waited for him to continue.

"And…?" I finally urged when he didn't.

"And… That's all I'm gonna say on the subject. So I'm gonna go now. You two have fun tonight." He threw me a sparing wink before disappearing out the door, and then I was alone.

Alone, and left to wonder what on _earth_ Beau could want to talk to me about that I would possibly feel had to be argued against? My very distractible mind went around in circles in the two hours I waited for Beau to be ready for me, and it seemed like I was missing something very obvious. However, for the life of me, I could not comprehend what that might be.

Beau's nervousness had not seemed to abate when I got to his house after dinner. He was just as jittery as before, maybe even more so.

He drove back to my house with hyper-focus, his fingers tight around the steering wheel, the tips of his ears bright red. His heartbeat was hovering in the mid-eighties, when its usual was closer to the low sixties.

I tried not to let my imagination get away from me, but I couldn't help but wonder. Would he propose tonight? For a moment, I could see it—our lives, stretched out in front of us. Coming home with him or to him every night… We would never have to spend a moment apart against our will ever again.

Once Beau was a part of my family, my home would be his home, and he would be free to come and go as he pleased. I didn't know why the thought brought me such eagerness, but suddenly his truck was much too slow.

When he finally pulled up in front of the house and put the truck in park, I stretched across the bench seat and pressed my lips to his. Our shared exhilaration was intoxicating. There was nowhere else we needed to be tonight, no one we had to answer to, nothing we had to do, except just be together. It was undeniably liberating to know a big empty house awaited us, and no one else.

Before I knew it, we were both breathing hard, caught up in my sudden assault, and I forced myself to put a small amount of distance between us.

"Should we go inside?"

Beau smiled, and his visage was so beautiful it made my chest ache. "Let's go," he said, and he enfolded my hand in his, slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder and pushed open the driver's side door. He tugged me out that side as well, and then, unexpectedly, pulled me against his chest and kissed me again.

As passionate as it was, there was the oddest undercurrent to the kiss—an absolute assuredness, a taking of one's time. Beau was just as aware as I was that we had an entire night to spend together. I, for one, didn't intend to take one moment for granted. I was resolved not to rush things.

I got him a beverage from the kitchen, and then we took his bag up to my room. We turned on some music while we lounged on the bed.

After a few moments, Beau rolled onto his side and leaned down to kiss me again. I kissed him back willingly, eagerly, that same sensation from before taking center stage again. In a matter of seconds, my awareness of the room vanished—I couldn't hear the music anymore, or feel the breeze on my skin. The only things I was aware of were the bed underneath us, the feel of Beau's warm, soft lips against mine, and the enchanting smell of his skin.

Alone. We were completely alone, and something about that comprehension had warmth blooming in the deepest parts of my belly. The fog in my brain thickened until coherent thought was hopeless, an unattainable goal. On their own accord, my hands wandered across Beau's shoulders, up and down the fine, lean muscles of his back, clutching in his hair, always aware that I could grievously harm him without a moment's notice.

Both of our breathing rates were coming faster, and Beau's heart, between our chests, was pounding double time. His hands were on my face, in my hair, on my shoulders, down my arms, fingers twining with mine, and then making the same circuit again. His sweet lips pressed to the corner of mine, and then tracked across my cheek, along the edge of my jaw, and down my throat.

I knew that every moment we were together, it was necessary I exert the utmost of self-control. But in this moment, as his hot, damp lips trailed fire across my skin—my skin that suddenly felt very warm—I wanted nothing more than to let every pretense go, to clutch him closer, to feed the deep, animalistic cravings coming awake inside my body.

Which meant that I had to stop this, now. Beau's lips were on my collarbone, and I cradled his face in my hands, pulling his lips away from my skin.

"We should stop," I was barely able to gasp.

His face was flushed, his eyes frantic and filled to the brim with expectation and excitement. In this moment, I felt _cheated_. Cheated that I could not fully give myself to him in the way I wanted to. I felt that I was cheating _him_ by not giving it to him.

But it was necessary, _necessary_ , that we take these steps to ensure his safety.

And there was something else, too, that was harder to explain. A deeper reservation deep inside my heart that felt at once unfamiliar and entirely, eternally certain.

Beau nodded and sat up, facing away from me. I watched his shoulders rise and fall as he took a minute to catch his breath. When his heart and breaths mellowed, he still did not turn, and I wondered if I'd offended him.

Finally, I sat up and slid my hand over his. When I turned toward him, I was surprised to see the mask of willpower on his face, once more. No longer did he appear apprehensive and nervous, but the same intense concentration from before had returned.

Was this what Archie had foreseen? Why was Beau so nervous to speak of it? Why was _I_ so nervous?

The track changed on the stereo across the room, and Beau turned toward me. He gazed down at me wordlessly, obviously intent on some train of thought, though I couldn't imagine what it would be.

I reached up to trace his countenance with a finger, lingering on the silken skin of his bottom lip. At this, his heart rate flew into the low hundreds.

"Listen to your heart fly," I murmured, "Are you all right?"

"Great," he assured me, though I didn't miss the flash of hesitation in his eyes.

I felt the mask of expectant confusion on my face, and I reminded myself of my promise to take things slow tonight, to cherish the moment. I didn't want to push him into speaking of things that would only make him uncomfortable. But the curiosity was killing me, twisting my mind into unfamiliar snares of desperate inquisitiveness.

I laid my hand over his reassuringly. "Did you want to talk about something? Did I offend you… Before? I'm sorry if I did, but you know—"

He sighed, a long and slow release of air, and stared across the room, refusing to meet my eyes. This made me even more anxious. "No, you didn't offend me… I guess it's just… I'm having a few… Doubts."

I felt my expression go blank with shock. It took me a moment to recover. "Doubts?" I repeated.

"About after the wedding, when I'm one of you…"

The relief coursed through me—so he _did_ still want me; it wasn't the wedding he was concerned about. Was he having second thoughts about the timeline of his change? It was a possibility I could hardly bring myself to comprehend.

"What has you worried?" I asked gently.

Despite the respite it brought to know he was as sure about me as ever, my mind continued to race ahead of me. Was it something from his human life he was unwilling to leave behind? Charlie or Renee? His friends—Allen and Becca, Julie? Some other human experience I hadn't thought of? Had he changed his mind about going away to college?

I realized I had been looking away as my thoughts had been swirling, excitedly and worryingly, and when I returned my gaze to his face, I found his visage ripe with a beautiful flush of color. I automatically reached up to trace the warmth along his cheekbone, perplexed.

"You're blushing," I noted with surprise.

He cleared his throat, his eyes still cast away from mine, and I extended my fingers until the entirety of my hand caressed his cheek. I could feel that my eyes were wide with blatant curiosity.

Finally he said, "It's just, we all know I'm gonna be totally, y'know, fascinated with murder and gore and blood, and I just…" He trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, "I was just worried, I guess, that… That if we wait until after I'm changed, that I won't want certain things the way I do right now, as a human…" His hands came up to cradle my face, his fingers winding gently through the hair at the nape of my neck. The fire in his eyes was baffling. "That I won't want _you_ in the same way."

I felt breathless, stunned. "I'm yours," I breathed. It was the only thing I could think of to say in this moment, thrown as I was by the intensity in his expression. Hadn't I explained my devotion; that my feelings for him would never change? I'd never seen a bond stronger than that of a mated vampire couple. If he was worried that his priorities would shift for a time, I was sure they would return to him eventually. And when they did, I was sure they'd be stronger than they'd ever been before. In fact, I was anxious to have him realize just how deeply my consecration went, once he would finally possess the capacity to understand with his fully developed, crystalline immortal mind.

Now, Beau was shaking his head. "No," he said, "I don't think you understand what I'm saying."

"Then tell me," I begged, our eyes locked.

"I just…" The set of his face changed, determination overtaking the embarrassment. "I just wanted to know, I guess, if… Because we're getting married while I'm still human, if we're going to be having a real honeymoon while I'm still human…?"

"Oh," I whispered, the comprehension suddenly very clear. There was no room for misunderstanding in his question now, and I felt my body go still with tension.

I couldn't deny that I wanted this just as much as he did. The yearnings and cravings were impossible to repudiate; the physical, aching sensations in my body impossible to ignore. The recitation of one's wedding vows were meant to come in conjunction with the consummation of a marriage. To share a lifelong promise with another only meant the obvious exchange of physical love would follow.

So badly I ached for it, I wished to tie myself to him in every way possible—to be with him physically and emotionally, while he was still human. We'd fallen in love just as we were, and it only seemed to make sense to want to share everything else in our current physical states. I wanted him _human_ , warm and soft, with the blue eyes and the defined, leanly muscled arms, lucent skin and vivacious heartbeat I'd fallen for over a year ago.

Although, how could I move past the very real, gripping fear that I would _hurt_ him? I had only known these new sensations in the time I'd known him, and from what I knew of them, I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay entirely focused, to give my full attention to my self-control while in such a compromising situation.

It was already clear enough that he distracted me; if I let things go further than we'd already taken them, how could I know he would emerge unharmed? How could I know for certain I would not _kill_ him?

Though I had long ago come to terms with the thirst that had once ruled my every thought and instinct, I could not say the same for the constant urge to pull him closer, hold him tighter, to press my lips more firmly to his, to wind my limbs around his body and pull his to mine. Who could say for certain I would know when to stop? Who could say for certain I'd be able to impede myself before I harmed him, or worse?

I blinked, lifting my apologetic, regretful stare to Beau's face. He was still waiting for an answer, his eyes careful.

"I don't think…" I began to say, and his face fell, "That sort of thing would be feasible." He still didn't look up at me, so I went on. "We've talked about this before, Beau. I'm not certain I would be able to control myself—that I wouldn't be so distracted by you that my self-discipline would fall to the wayside. I _don't want to hurt you_."

He looked at me then, and the pain in his eyes was obvious. It was clear he doubted my reasoning; it was obvious he was offended.

Remorse flooded through me, and I rose up on my knees, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and crushing him to me, not quite as careful as I wanted to be. I had been expecting to see anger, even betrayal in his eyes, but the heartbreak and pain I saw there instead gutted me. To know his feelings had been hurt, that he believed I didn't want this with as much conviction as he seemed to… It was unfathomable.

"You know I want you, too," I whispered to him.

"Then shouldn't it be easy?" There was no condescension in his tone, no mockery or bitterness—only heartbreaking, baffled confusion. "Not _easy_ ," he corrected himself now, "Maybe _simple_ is a better word. You want me, I want you. Once we're married, there shouldn't be any reason not to… I don't want to push you or anything. I know you're from a different time, when things were done in a different way."

I began to shake my head, to argue it wasn't about that at all, but Beau lifted a finger to put it over my lips.

"I know part of that applies to you. Please don't deny it, because I love that about you. I love that you still have some of your values from your human life, that even almost a hundred years later, I still get to love the same girl you are now as you were then… But when I'm your husband, and you're my wife" A palpable thrill went through me at those words "I want to share myself with you. I want to love you every way I know how to, and I want to do all of that while I'm still human because I don't know who I'll be after, or how long it'll take me to come back to myself, _if_ I'll ever fully come back to myself. I know how much I love you _right now_ ; I know nothing in life is stronger than that, and I want to be able to show you that while it's still here."

For a moment, I was speechless. My eyes stung hotly, and there was a little catch in my throat. In that moment, there were two poles at discourse inside my mind. One pulled me in the direction of his assured safety, the other pulled me in the direction of the love and desire I had for Beau—something that had never been met by any other emotion or sensation I'd ever felt. I felt as if I was being torn in two, and I dropped my head to his shoulder, desperately conflicted.

"I could _kill_ you." My breath hitched unevenly, a tearless, vampire sob.

His hand rubbed warm, soothing circles into the middle of my back, and he rested his lips in my hair. "I trust you," he whispered.

I swallowed hard. " _I_ don't."

He didn't say anything.

"Don't you realize?" I lifted my head so I could look into his eyes. I could see myself reflected in the ocean of his irises, which were vulnerable and limpid and full of emotion. _My_ eyes were very nearly fiery with trepidation and fear. "I don't trust myself."

"Then trust _me_ ," he compromised, "Trust me to be able to believe in you for the both of us." He clutched me closer. "I've seen the way you love me. You're kind, you're soft, you're gentle. You don't _want_ to hurt me, and I think that ambition is so strong that you won't."

"It's not as easy as you say it is," I protested, "How will I know—"

"I'm not saying you have to commit to anything," he assured me, tucking my hair behind my ear, "I don't want you to feel pressured, like I already said. I just want us to _try_. Is that so impossible to agree to? We can stop whenever you say, and if it doesn't work, it doesn't work, and we wait until I'm changed." He tried to shrug nonchalantly, but I knew the idea didn't sit necessarily well with him. I couldn't say it did for me, either. "But can we at least _try_?"

I stared into his sweet, loving and eager face for a long moment, torn.

He waited with a patience that wasn't quite patience, and leaned down to kiss my shoulder. His breath washed warm and sweet over the edge of exposed skin by my collar, and my eyes closed automatically.

I drew in a deep, steadying breath. I felt when he drew back, and he touched my face.

"I want to," I admitted in a whisper, the shame and guilt heavy in my tone. I was an animal, a _monster_ for admitting to this—for wanting something that could _so easily_ result in his death.

Beau didn't say anything; he merely waited for me to continue, knowing there was more.

There _was_ more—more that I didn't quite know how to word succinctly and comprehensively.

I was certain thinking Beau had died in March had been the single most painful thing I had ever experienced. Thus, my battle with my thirst had effectively been ended. I would do anything to avoid harming Beau in that way—I would take the fires of my transformation a thousand times over rather than to risk hurting him, to risk his life. I knew how much it had hurt to believe I had lost him, and in that moment, every one of my hunting instincts had been silenced. I no longer feared the monster that had once been so prominent, the monster that had craved his blood, his life, had _wanted_ to kill him, had coveted the unthinkable delinquency, desired it. That animal had been defeated in the face of his assumed death and our resulting reunion.

That wasn't the part of me that I feared now. Instead, I feared the part that had always loved him _too much_. Until we were matched in essential makeup, my love for him would always be stronger—physically for certain. To satisfy my unending longing to have him closer would undoubtedly result in the fracture of his bones, the crushing of his organs. How could I dispute this reasoning? He was just too soft, and though I loved that, loved his suppleness and his warmth, it was this very thing that made him so entirely susceptible.

But could it also be true that the fear that I would hurt him would go as far as he thought it would? Could it be possible that my desire for him, my goal to keep him safe, was stronger than the deeper, instinctual parts of me? _Could_ I succeed in such an endeavor?

I wanted to—oh, I wanted to badly. It could be argued that I wanted this just as much as he did, maybe more. I had had far more time to ruminate over the specifics of our relationship and its eventual trajectory.

But all of this based on a ' _maybe_ '? I just didn't know…

"Could I take that kind of risk with you?" I murmured, almost to myself, "Could I concede to the most selfish, baser parts of me, knowing doing so could kill you?"

He knew I wasn't speaking to him, not really, and still he waited for me to come to my own conclusions.

I opened my eyes, searching his face for absolution.

If it was this difficult to be with him now—to kiss his mouth, to touch his face, to smell his skin and his blood and his hair, how much more difficult would things become when every one of my senses was consumed by him, when every inch of his skin—much of it I had never seen before—was exposed and pressed to every inch of mine?

He had guaranteed that I didn't need to make any promises, that we could stop things whenever I wanted to…

"Just try?" I barely whispered as confirmation.

It was just a flash, and it faded almost as quickly as it appeared, but for a singular moment, the excitement was transparent in his eyes. "We'll take things at your pace; you call the shots. When you say stop, we stop, no questions asked… I don't want to coerce you into anything—but I just want you to know this is the last thing I want before you change me. But like I said—it's up to you."

"You're impossible," I whispered, brushing my fingers through his hair.

"I don't want this to be some sort of compromise, sacrifice thing. I want us to do this because we _both_ want it, because we both believe that it's an important human experience." He leaned close, and all I could see was his eyes as he regarded me intently. "I trust you," he whispered again. "Please trust _me_."

In that moment, he had me convinced. Convinced that _maybe_ we could succeed at this, because he wasn't begging me to do anything I didn'twant to do. It was clear we both desired taking the physical aspect of our relationship to its deepest connection. It was clear he had confidence in me, clear that he trusted me with this. I could see that in his wide, vulnerable eyes. But most importantly, he'd put the entirety of the decision in my hands. I was sure he had certain expectations, certain goals, but he was allowing _me_ to make the final decision, allowing me to discern how far things would go.

I looped my arms around his neck and pulled myself closer. "A real wedding night," I mused, and in immediate response, his pulse picked up.

"Only if you want to," he said, and his voice quavered.

"I think we've come to the conclusion that this is something we both desire," I said softly. "And you seem to have put an improbable amount of confidence in me. How can I not appreciate your vulnerability, your loyalty? I want you to have every human experience you desire…"

"So you're saying…?"

I took a deep breath, and counted six of his heartbeats before I answered. "I'm not saying yes; I'm saying we'll try. Just try."

There was a beat of silence, and then he pulled me to him with surprising strength. He clutched me to his chest zealously. "Thank you," he whispered into my hair, "I love you."

I couldn't help but laugh a little at his enthusiasm. "I love you, too," I told him, and then straightened so I could look at him. "You realize your impatient human hormones have just set a tentative wedding date," I couldn't help but hint. "How do you feel about a summer wedding?"

He couldn't hide the terror that flashed in his eyes, but he restrained it quickly, impressively. "I realize that," he said evenly, and then genuinely grinned at me. "And it's worth it."

"It doesn't have to be a big production," I assured him, though I honestly would have loved a big party. I couldn't deny I didn't feel a fringe of disappointment over the fact, but I reminded myself that what really mattered was the promise made between me and Beau, and nothing else. "We could elope—hop a plane to Vegas, for all I care. You can wear your jeans and pig shirt and we'll go to the chapel with the drive-through window. I just want it to be official—to belong to each other and no one else—for the rest of forever."

Beau sighed, but I couldn't see his face from where it was pressed into my hair. "Forever sounds nice," he said quietly.

.

 _Vegas? VEGAS?!_

My brother's mental voice became clear to me when he was still a couple miles out from the house. It was just after twelve o' clock, and Beau and I were in the kitchen, where he was making himself a sandwich.

 _She can't be seriously considering this—she CAN'T. Why is it that I'm the only one pissed about this? We've talked about this, and she definitely won't be satisfied with a quickie ceremony and drive-thru burgers for the reception dinner… C'mon…_

"My family will be home in a few minutes," I informed Beau as he pressed the second piece of bread over the filling of his lunch and slid onto the bar stool next to mine.

He nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich.

I wasn't ready to let the peaceful evening we'd shared go, but every second carried my family closer, pulled us forward in time's unstoppable current toward the battle.

When my family walked through the door, their minds and faces were serious with concentration and preparation for the fight.

Archie was the only one who wasn't totally focused on the next few hours we had to organize.

 _I can't believe you're actually thinking about going through with this. You're gonna regret it is all I can say. If there was a time to let him give you something you wanted… The time would be now. But I can see you're planning on letting him get away with this farce… Can hardly call it a real wedding… No party in sight…_

He continued to mutter belligerently to himself as I welcomed my family home and shared brief pleasantries with them.

"We've done what we can to strengthen our bodies and prepare our minds," Carine said seriously, "We shall wait now." Unconsciously—with no apparent forethought in her mind—she stretched her hand toward Earnest and he took it.

"Have you two made your arrangements?" Earnest asked us.

"We'll meet with Julie this afternoon to lay the false trail. I'm planning to meet them on the mountain before nightfall," I told him. "All that's left to do is pack a few things."

Archie scowled. "Pack some winter stuff," he advised belligerently, "From what I can _see_ " _Damn dogs_ "the weather's gonna get pretty nasty—snow, looks like."

"Snow?" I repeated, seeing the hazy, partial flashes of the blustery weather in his head. "It's June."

Archie held his hands up, palms forward. "Don't ask me. I'm just the reporter." He wrinkled his nose. _Get anymore vague, you might as well call me a meteorologist. Humph._

"Just the thing to cheer me up," Beau muttered sullenly, and I smiled a bit at that.

 _Boo hoo for you,_ Archie thought without sympathy, shooting a glare at the back of his head as I turned us away.

We spent the next hour getting our affairs in order for the battle. Beau and I went into the garage, where I gathered much of the camping gear we had on hand but never used. I chose the items best suited to the kind of weather my brother had alluded to: all-season tent, down-filled sleeping bag, a few extra blankets. With Beau's winter clothes and multiple layers, I hoped this would be enough to keep him warm.

Archie wasted no time following us into the garage. While he chastised and pleaded with me continually, I did my best to ignore him and focus on the task at hand.

 _Look, I'm your brother; your best friend, even—I know how much you want this. It's not worth such a huge sacrifice on your part. This is an event you want to remember—if it's not your only wedding, it'll at least be your first, and that's the one you want to count._

I gathered some packs of dehydrated food—which looked and smelled like dog food, so I wasn't surprised by the expression of distaste that came over Beau's face—and vowed to cook him a quality meal when we got home.

 _Man alive—and you say_ _ **Beau**_ _is stubborn… Gimme a break. You can't skimp on this. Go the whole nine yards. Beau'll go along with it. He's the groom; he won't care. Even if he_ _ **doesn't**_ _insist on going to Vegas, I can see the pitiful little soiree you're planning on throwing, and I'm telling you—you're gonna regret it._

I ignored him, handing my cell phone to Beau so he could call Julie and let her know we'd be ready to meet her within the next hour.

 _You deserve the wedding you've been dreaming of._ Archie continued his tirade as Beau spoke to Bonnie, because apparently Julie wasn't home. She assured him she'd get the message passed on to her daughter. _I can't believe_ _ **I'm**_ _the one who's gonna have to speak up for you—looks like you won't be saying the words anytime soon._

I turned to shoot a glare at him. "Stay out of this," I hissed under my breath, too fast and quiet for Beau to hear, who was still on the phone.

 _Like hell I will. Once this all gets resolved, you'll see that you were just being hard-headed about this, and you'll be_ _ **glad**_ _I stepped in for you. Leave us alone so I can talk some sense into him._

I didn't budge from where I now stood with my arms folded tightly across my chest. It might have struck me as ironic, that I was fighting so hard _against_ what I really wanted, if the situation weren't already so fraught with aggravation.

 _This is your wedding we're talking about it. Think about it. All you've ever wanted is a beautiful, classy, traditional wedding, with all your family there. Think of Carine and Earnest—think how sad ol' Pop will be if he doesn't get to walk you down the aisle… Jess and Eleanor have been looking forward to being your bridesmaids for forty years. And I, for one, just want to see you two happy. And he_ _ **will**_ _be—y'know, after he gets over the fainting spell and stuff._

"Archie!" I hissed under my breath.

 _Kidding… He hasn't even thought of his mom or anything. If he knows how disappointed everyone else would be if he just dragged you off to Vegas, maybe he'd change his mind… It might not seem like it, but I'm doing this for you guys._

I muttered something else not exactly genial as Beau hung up the phone and turned to pass it back to me. His eyes flickered between my brother and me, catching on to the tension that was suddenly very palpable in the cavernous garage.

"Uh…" he said when he saw us glaring at each other. "Everything good?"

"Actually, no," Archie said as I blurted, "Just fine."

Beau's head swiveled again.

What my insanely annoying brother didn't understand was that this _didn't_ matter to me. So what was the sacrifice of a big party I'd only dreamed of in theory, in comparison to Beau's happiness? I'd already decided I would be happy with a small wedding if it meant I was legally bound to him, if it meant we would finally and bindingly, be entirely united.

What was the expense of a stupid little _party_ in the face of that?

"You will _not_ guilt-trip him into this," I snarled at him under my breath.

 _Guilt-trip._ Archie's eyes rolled in a gesture entirely indiscernible to human eyes. _I'm just going to make sure he's thought all his options through._

 _All his options_! For the love of all that was holy... I had to give my brother one thing: he was an incredibly capable manipulator. He almost had _me_ convinced this was more about my happiness than it was about his opportunity to throw the biggest bachelor party and resulting post-ceremony reception in the history of all time. Archie wasn't much for the mushy, romantic aspects of a wedding—but parties were definitely something he could, in his words, 'get on board with'.

 _I'm gonna find a way to talk to him one way or another. You might as well let it be now._ He showed me a vision of the conversation as proof.

I felt my eyes narrow a fraction of a millimeter.

"Okay, seriously," Beau pushed now, "What is it?"

"Think you can find it within yourself to give us a minute to talk?" Archie said aloud. _We're doing this whether you're here or not._

"Do _you_ think you can find it within yourself to quit meddling in _my_ affairs?" I bit back acridly.

Archie smirked. "I think we all know the answer to that is 'No chance in hell', so…" He flicked his fingers toward the man-door.

I stood stiffly where I was, running through all the variations of the insults I would have liked to say to him in that moment, but nothing held any sort of foundation.

 _If you stay, you'll only fail trying to stop me from saying what needs to be said. He can do this one thing for you. It's a party—heaven knows he's gonna have to go to a few more of_ _ **those**_ _in the next few centuries._

I shook my head at him, not entirely able to believe his audacity.

"You can go now," he urged when I didn't move, "This doesn't involve you."

I laughed humorlessly and rolled my eyes. Oh, right. This wasn't about me _at all_. It was only my wedding he was completely and entirely attempting to rewire.

I was about to launch into a tirade about Archie's _involvement_ in _my business_ , when Beau put a hand on my shoulder.

"Just let him get it over with," he urged, "It can't be that bad."

"Can't it be?" I whispered to myself, and then turned to him. "Remember that Archie will go to any and all lengths to get what he wants," I told him, "Nod along and remember that this is _our_ wedding, and we can do what we want." My eyes slid to, and fixed on, Archie's while I said these last few words with just a tad too much murderous inclination.

 _Yes, yes, you're very forbidding and scary. Now shoo._

Though I supposed I should have given them a few minutes to speak privately, I couldn't allow my brother that luxury. I had to know how Beau would respond without the skewed perceptive of Archie's memories, so I could be sure I could perceive his reactions correctly. I stood my ground.

"I think I'll stay," I asserted, "Since you _will_ be mostly talking about _me_."

Archie groaned. "If you insist."

Beau glanced between us, still confused.

"I just have one question for you, dude," Archie said as he strode over to his Porsche and perched on the hood, "Who's gonna be your best man?"

Beau's face flushed with blood so quickly it alarmed me. "What?" he squeaked, and then cleared his throat. "How-when-wha-?" He paused, seeming disoriented and embarrassed. "I mean, uh… You. You are." He scratched the back of his head. "Obviously."

Archie gave him a patronizing stare.

Beau sighed. "I can see where this is going, and it's all starting to make sense now..."

"A seedy minister reciting the minimalist of vows in a rundown, re-purposed bordello is not mine, nor is it Edy's, idea of a good time, bro."

"He's exaggerating," I muttered.

" _That_ ," Archie continued sharply, glaring at me pointedly. _Shut up._ "Or something so tiny the majority of Forks wouldn't hear of it. No announcement in the paper, purely immediate family on the guest list, not even a _cake_ …"

"Sounds good to me," Beau mumbled.

Archie huffed. "But does it sound good to _Edythe_?" He gave me another meaningful leer, but I kept my face expressionless. I knew, at once, it would be fruitless to argue my point, and better just to let Archie run his course—like a virus, it was more beneficial just to wait the infection out.

More importantly, it would be better for Beau to be able to react genuinely if he felt I wasn't leaning one way or the other.

Beau's expression faltered, and seeing his opportunity, Archie lunged. "Let me just give you some advice, my man. A girl's wedding is something most dream about from the time they're little girls—so for Edythe, that's a pretty long damn time. So in the service of a wedding being mostly about the bride _anyway_ , I say you let her do something traditional." I opened my mouth, ready to jump in, but he abruptly shushed me. "Coming from a very happily married man, bro, it's better just to step back and let the lady do what she wants. You know what they say: Happy wife, happy life." He shrugged. "Just putting that out there, letting you know of all your options..." He put his hands up, palms forward. "Take my advice as you will."

He strode out of the garage then, leaving us on our own, and I stared after him, galled by his outrageous audacity. When he was gone, I turned back to Beau.

"Don't listen to him," I reassured him as I took his hands, "You know how he is. He likes parties, he likes big events, and he's upset that we don't plan on having everybody be a big part of it. Remember what I said. This is _our_ day. Not his."

"Uh huh," Beau said, but he was staring over my head, at the door Archie had walked through.

I stretched up on my tiptoes and put my hands on either side of his face so he'd look at me. "Seriously. _Don't_ listen to him. I want what will make _you_ happy. I hardly gave my wedding a thought until you came along."

Of course, Archie was right. I would have liked something more traditional, to wear a pretty dress and slice through the first tier of a cake I would never enjoy, to dance under romantic fairy lights in Beau's arms... But I would never tell Beau how much that would mean to me, not while the idea of such a spectacle caused him serious distress. Even now, his heart was racing, and I could smell the perspiration dewing on his skin, laced with epinephrine.

Then I saw it—the moment Beau made his decision. It caught Archie halfway across the lawn toward the house: The picturesque, woodland fairytale backyard wedding took center stage in my mind's eye. I could see the copious bowery of flowers, the simple aisle; I could see myself, swathed in white, descending the staircase on Earnest's arm, and I could see Beau, waiting for me at the end of the aisle, astoundingly debonair in a fine-cut black tuxedo—the perfect mix of traditional and modern—cerulean eyes shining with adoration and amazement as he watched me walk toward him.

As was the usual for Archie, the perspective of the vision began to change and shift as he gained control of it, and other certain details began to make themselves known. Who was in the crowd, what kind of flowers we'd choose, what time of day the ceremony would occur, and as his eyes swept toward my hand where I held the frothy white bouquet…

I wasn't expecting a ring—I didn't want Beau spending unnecessary money on me—but as its intricate, delicate detail filled my vision now, I could deny the draw no longer. It was exquisite, perfect in its dainty beauty, with its thin gold band and the beautiful diamond, webbed by more lacy intricate brilliance. Subtle, modest, and undeniably dazzling. Clearly vintage.

There was a story behind this ring, and suddenly, I wanted to know it. Was it a family heirloom, perhaps?

The picture cut out abruptly as Archie poked his head back in. "Hey—where'd the ring come from?"

The infuriating _nerve_!

I grabbed the first thing my hands touched, which happened to be one of Royal's wrenches, and heaved it at my brother's head. Having seen my decision to do so, he dodged it in time and insisted, "I'm just curious!"

.

 **A/N:** So—Beau and Edythe do not wind up officially engaged by the end of this chapter! For Beau to be the one to propose, first he has to work through his thing with Julie and everything. The proposal will most likely occur in the last chapter. But it'll be worth the wait, I promise ;)

Also, Edythe stayed for the conversation between Archie and Beau. I just thought it made sense, taking into account the topic and how it differentiated from the original Eclipse.

I would love love **love** to know what you thought of this chapter, lovelies! As always, thank you for your support and feedback on the last one!

Talk to you soon! xo


	18. Groundwork

**A/N:** Hi, everyone! I thought I'd get this up before we leave for a little family vacation (don't worry, I won't be gone long.) These next two have turned out to be pretty short respectively, but I wasn't really willing to merge them together. It just wouldn't flow right. Hope you enjoy this one—though it doesn't differ from the first much at all.

 **Preparations**

 **.**

I took a longer, roundabout avenue to the clearing to ensure our combined scents would not intersect with the path Beau and Julie would be traversing in just an hour from now.

Beau was quiet as I ran, and I recognized the tense way with which he held his limbs, the shallowness of his breathing. He was worrying about what Archie had said to him.

Someway, somehow, I would give my brother a proper reprimanding when this was all over! And if Jessamine tried to stop me, she'd receive my wrath as well…

I let him down at the farthest end of the clearing and took the pack from him, which I'd had him carry during our journey, but had kept a finger hooked through the strap in a way that allowed me to bear most of its weight. I slung it over my shoulder now and took a tremulous breath—hating the whole notion of this.

"So, just walk north awhile," I directed him, "Touch as much as you can; it shouldn't take long to intersect the path they'll take on their way in to us… Them," I quickly corrected myself.

Beau nodded. "'Kay." But he didn't move, swaying back on his heels. His gaze flashed around our surroundings furtively, a little bereft.

I couldn't fight my smile. "That way," I clarified, pointing in the right direction.

He nodded again and started north, ducking under a low-lying—at least from his perspective—branch. He picked his way carefully along the ill-hewn patch, passing his hands along the coarse bark of the trees, springy moss-covered boulders, and the copious fern fronds and varying other foliage. He did all this with an expression of stern concentration, though I wasn't sure _this_ was the particular event he was ruminating so seriously over.

I kept pace with him, wishing I could walk closer by his side, but made sure I maintained a distance of about twenty feet between us. Our scent trails would be far enough apart that the army wouldn't suspect we were together. And by the time they were this close, it wouldn't matter much anyway… I could almost picture the frenzied look in their eyes as they would tear their way through the forest, thinking they were gaining on the fragile human boy I loved with all of my silent heart.

It was very nearly painful for me to maintain my distance from him when I thought of the crazed demeanors of the newborns. To Beau, it would be gloomy and chilly underneath the trees, and I wished I could be with him, to steady him if he fell, to ease my own worries about the target the rabid monsters would find in him. I reminded myself that the target was theoretical. He wouldn't actually _be here_.

"Am I doing enough here?" he called, "Anything else I can do to help?"

"That's perfect," I assured him.

"Let me know if there's more I can do."

 _More_ he could do? He was already doing so much for my family and the wolves. At once, my body felt heavy with exhaustive emotion, and with the pride I felt for him and his willingness to put his courage and strength forward, _again_. He'd faced so much in the time I'd known him; I was anxious to have this residual obstacle out of the way, once and for all… For him finally to be safe and unbreakable and free.

But before that would come the wedding—if he wanted me to be the one to change him, which I suspected he still maintained.

Thinking about the wedding made me think about a lot of things, but unfortunately, the first thing that came to mind was again Archie's bullheaded insistence to meddle in _my_ business. In _our_ business.

When I glanced over at Beau again, he had that same, distracted expression on his face, and I thought just _maybe_ it wasn't only the battle he was worrying about… Why now? I grumbled to myself. Why did Archie have to bring this up _now_? It was the most inconvenient of times!

"Don't listen to any of what Archie said," I tried to cajole him again, "He has no business being involved in any of this."

The slight hiccup in his heart rate informed me I'd been correct in my assumptions that he was worrying about this.

I tilted my head at him as he stared down at the fern frond he'd reached out to grab. I expected him to brush it off, as he normally would, but he merely shrugged, wordless.

"I'm quite serious," I urged, wishing he'd look at me, "This is _our_ day, and I want what you want. Simple is best. The only dream I've ever had of my wedding is that you and I are both happy. The details don't matter to me."

As much as I tried to disregard it, I couldn't quite quash the true feelings underneath. I _did_ want it. I wanted it all—everything Archie had seen. The gown, the veil, the flowers, the traditional ceremony, _all_ of it. I wanted to see Beau in a tuxedo, I wanted to have Earnest, who deserved every right imaginable as my father, to escort me down the aisle and give me away. I wanted Beau's parents there to see his joy, to see that he would be _okay_ , to know he had me and I had him, no matter what was to come. I wanted to declare my commitment and my devotion in front of every person on the planet if I could.

But, of course, I would never admit any of that.

Beau merely shrugged again, and finally began to continue forward—though, to my disappointment, he still didn't look my way.

It was only a few minutes later when Julie's thoughts flickered into hearing range. She was still a couple miles out, and I was surprised to find her thinking about tonight's events almost as much as I was. But mostly she was thinking about Beau, and her list of ideas to sway his decision.

I sighed disapprovingly, though I knew there was no way I would be able to stop her. She would probably fly through two thirds of the list before they even reached the campsite on the mountain.

We looped a circle just past where Archie had said the newborns would cross Beau's path, and then headed back the way we'd come. He seemed eager to get back to the clearing, and I wondered why this was. Was he simply looking forward to being out of the shadowy gloom of the forest, or was he excited to meet up with Julie?

The few times he seemed to forget where he was I directed him, making sure he stayed on the same path he'd gone in on.

The nearer we drew to the clearing, the more excited he seemed to get, his steps falling faster as the light reached toward him. I was ready to warn him to be careful—he'd had an unusual amount of luck during our venture—when a gnarled tree root caught his toe and he pitched forward. He threw out his hands instinctively, bracing his fall against a nearby tree trunk. Immediately, I smelled blood.

Beau's brow crumpled into a grimace as he flipped his hand, palm up, and examined the damage. I realized I had frozen where I was, more out of habit than anything else. I had already proven just how far my instinct to hunt him was from my mind.

"Are you all right?" I called to him.

"Sure," he said immediately, curling his long fingers into a fist as he stuffed his hand into his jacket pocket, "Just a scratch. But you should stay there—I think I'm bleeding."

I rolled my eyes, already flying over the bracken of the forest floor toward him. "I have a first aid kit. Good thing, too—I didn't want to take any chances." I slung the pack off my shoulders and set it on the ground so I could root through one of its side pockets for the small container holding the bandages and various medical equipment.

"It's fine," Beau protested as I straightened again and reached for his injured limb, "I can do it." He held out his good hand, but I pulled the kit out of reach. When I flashed a glance at his face, I realized his expression was wary, even concerned. I remembered the same hesitance he'd had when he'd broken his nose a week ago—the bruising was all but faded by now, and Carine had reported that the fissure was healing nicely.

"Let me clean it for you," I insisted, "I promise I'm very much in control."

Beau shook his head. "That's not what I'm—" He stopped himself then. "Control," he muttered under his breath, and then turned away from me, crouching on the ground. He abruptly pulled his wounded hand from his pocket and extended it until he touched a nearby rock. I didn't fully understand what he was doing until he pulled his hand away, leaving a patch of smeared blood on the sedimentary object.

"Beau," I sighed frowningly as he straightened and gripped some nearby fronds in his hand, dragging them across the injury. He continued forward toward the light of the clearing, rubbing his palm vigorously across a low-hanging tree branch, and another fallen trunk blanketed in moss.

"You're going to get that cut infected," I fretted as I trailed along behind him.

He didn't answer me as he broke through the last of the foliage and trees, emerging into the sunlight. He bent to brush his hand against the soft grass beneath our feet.

"That's enough," I insisted, "You've done a very thorough job of putting yourself at risk of gangrene. Now let me clean it."

Beau turned to me and reached for the first aid kit again. "I can do it," he insisted.

I arched a brow at him. "You think I can't?"

"I just don't want you needlessly tormenting yourself."

"Who says I'm tormenting myself?" I reached for his hand, which he finally surrendered to me, and examined the wound. It was neither deep nor large, very superficial. I set to gathering what I would need from the first aid kit.

As I began to clean it, I felt suddenly proud. How deeply had this particular struggle afflicted me, and for so long? And yet, here I was now, breathing easily in and out, as I dealt very intimately with the blood of what some considered to be my 'singer'.

The fire swirled in my throat, of course, but I could affirm with confidence, that no urge to hurt him remained.

I felt his eyes on my face as I tended to the wound, finished with washing it and then swabbing it with disinfectant, which made Beau flinch. I glanced up at him once, feeling the smile playing on my lips, and found him staring at me quizzically, almost appalled.

"Something wrong?" I teased him, grinning. I felt as if I were very tall. The pride was like a balloon inside my chest. I could do this. I was _doing_ this!

"That doesn't… Doesn't bug you?" he inquired suspiciously.

I shook my head as I smoothed a bandage over the wound on his palm. "Not anymore. I lived through an entire twenty-four hours believing you were dead, Beau. It changed my perspective tremendously." I lifted my head to stare into his face as I continued, feeling that I owed him an explanation. Of course I did. I owed him _everything_. "Though the experience in no way changed how you smell to me, facing the gravity of your perceived loss altered my reactions permanently. My entire being shies away from any course that could inspire that kind of pain again."

He didn't seem to know what to say to that, but I could discern clear gratitude on his face.

"I suppose it's not only the more magnanimous parts of myself now that would like to keep you safe, but the baser, selfish parts as well."

"Oh," he said quietly, and there was something else there in his face too, underneath the gratitude. Surprise, or something like veneration.

Just then, a strong gust of wind whipped through the clearing, and Beau shivered. I retrieved his heavier jacket from the backpack as Julie's thoughts grew steadily louder. She was in the trees at the other end of the clearing, and the air shimmered as she phased back into human form, quickly dressing in the clothes she'd carried along between her teeth.

"All right," I said, linking my hand with his, "You've done your part. Now all there's left to do is a bit of camping!" I tried to make my voice sound upbeat and off-handed, but thought I came off as more sarcastic than anything else.

Beau chuckled quietly. "Can't wait," he intoned as we started across the field, toward where Julie was waiting in the shadows.

Her thoughts were smug, anticipatory of the time she'd have alone with Beau in the next while, and I vehemently wished we could have had just a minute more of isolation before I was forced to put him in her care.

 _Nowhere he can run from me now; I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve… It's for his own good—he_ _ **has**_ _to see my side of things… Then he'll be forced to see the truth…_

"Where are we meeting Jules?" Beau asked as we walked. Obviously he hadn't caught site of her yet.

"Right here."

We stopped at the edge of the clearing, and Julie carefully stepped from the shadow of the forest. She felt suddenly embarrassed, seeing Beau clad in his winter jacket, and clutched the bulky parka she'd brought closer to her body, wishing she could hide it.

 _Should have just left it in the forest,_ she thought regretfully. But she knew I'd already seen it. Her efforts had been left redundant, and she was just a little more petulant than usual about that. _Of course she'd think of_ _ **everything**_ _._

I regarded her form disapprovingly, noting the shortest pair of denim cut-offs I'd ever seen, and nothing more than another spandex sports bra. Could she have been any less modestly dressed? But it seemed, as I got a closer read on her suddenly vulnerable mind, that she had meant to dress this way. As a shape shifter, her core body temperature was not easily swayed, and the wind that was so icy to Beau didn't bother her in the slightest.

I could see now that this was just another part of her plan—using anything and everything she could to convince Beau of the feelings she suspected he had for her—including the lustful pull of her physical body.

I knew he loved her—it was just as obvious as anything else and, considering the experiences they'd shared in the time I'd been gone, almost to be expected. But Julie Black was sorely mistaken if she believed Beau loved her in _that_ way, with any sort of agape-esque depth.

I pressed my lips together to restrain the complaints I wanted to make about our present situation, knowing it would only make Beau unhappy.

"Hey, Jules," Beau said to her.

Julie flashed him a pearly smile. "Hey, Beau." Then she turned to me, the smile abruptly vanishing in place of a serious, business-like affect. "So where are we heading?"

I produced the topographical map I'd brought along and held it out to her. She pinched it between two fingers, wrinkling her nose.

 _Blech—this reeks._

"This is our current location," I informed her, reaching over to point out the spot. She recoiled, glaring disgustedly at my hand. I ignored that. "And you'll be going up this way." I traced the path they would take up the mountain. "Approximately nine miles."

Julie nodded curtly.

"You should cross my path about a mile away from your destination. You can follow it in to the site. Will you need the map?"

She stared down at the topography a moment longer, memorizing her course, and then folded the paper again.

"No thanks," she said coolly, passing it back to me, "I know where I'm going." _'Sides, that paper smells revolting._

I disregarded her pettiness— _again_ —and took the map back, tucking it into its former pocket. "I'll be taking a longer route," I informed them, and then turned to Beau. "I'll see you in a few hours."

Suddenly, the prospect of a normally very brief amount of time apart seemed like an eternity. Not only would I be without him in a time of great threat, but I was leaving him in the safety of a half-wolf, half-girl child who was intent on making him see things _her_ way, trying to steal him and his love away from me. It felt very wrong, and very painful.

I took a hesitant half-step backwards, eyes lingering on his face.

"See you," he said quietly, and though he didn't sound happy about our separation either, his tone was resigned, and I knew this was the only way. We needed Julie's stink to cover his trail—it was the only way to ensure they wouldn't find him.

I darted into the trees, trying to tune them out, but couldn't quite miss the beginning of their conversation. As soon as I was out of sight, Julie's hardened exterior melted.

"So—what's new?" she asked him.

Beau snorted. "Nothing."

"Right. Just a bunch of vampires trying to kill you. The usual."

"The usual."

They laughed together, and I pushed my legs harder, catapulting myself through the trees. It didn't take long for Julie's physical and then mental voice to falter out behind me. I thought the eerie quiet of the forest would be a nice distraction, but it was anything _but_ that.

Instead, it gave my head too much room to think, and to worry. It seemed silly that I would be more worried about Beau in Julie's monopolizing presence than the upcoming battle. As irrational as it was, the anxieties were very much concrete. It was dangerous to let my mind ruminate on these things when there were so many more important things at stake, but I just couldn't seem to help myself.

I struggled to beat back the insecure, envious thoughts as I began to ascend the mountain. Already, black storm clouds were thickening the sky, blotting out the sun almost entirely. The pressure in the atmosphere shifted as the storm-front hit. Before I was able to reach the spot I'd appropriated, the snow began to drift down from the sky, spotty and gentle at first, but steadily growing more and more vicious.

I gazed anxiously at the black and purple sky, hoping I'd packed enough to keep Beau warm. The spot I'd chosen was blockaded in by a firm stone wall, and I hoped that it, along with the winter-grade sleeping bag, tent and multiple blankets, would keep Beau sufficiently heated.

I focused on setting up the tent, driving the pegs into the rocky earth as far as I could, and then anchoring them further with large boulders on all sides until I was sure the winds wouldn't have a chance of blowing it away.

There wasn't much use in starting a fire—the gusts would blow it right out, so I didn't go ahead with that.

Instead, while I awaited their arrival, I began to pace. In my attempts to think of anything _but_ the conversation that must have been taking place between Beau and Julie right this second, I turned my focus to my family, and the last minute preparations they'd be making for the battle. Despite knowing they felt confident in their numbers and tactics, I couldn't help but worry. If any of them were lost, due to unforeseeable circumstances… My parents, my brothers, my sisters… No matter how vehemently Royal and I butted heads at times, I loved him, as I did every other member of my family.

I was glad I would have a connection to the fight tomorrow; it would be as close to the battle as I would get.

It wasn't long after that I caught wind of Julie's mental atmosphere. They were only a few miles off, and I found myself surprised at the brevity of their journey. Julie was running fast.

Her thoughts were anxious and it wasn't difficult to see why. The storm was steadily worsening by the minute, and I was as nervous about it as she seemed to be.

 _This is gonna be bad,_ she was thinking, _Real bad._

Her anxiety increased my own, and soon the only thing I could think about was getting Beau safely inside the tent before the storm really took hold.

Just when I didn't think I would be able to stand it anymore, they approached, rounding the craggy corner. I came to a stand-still and glanced up at them, profoundly relieved.

The swirling vortex of fear and emptiness inside my chest vanished when I saw Beau's face, and I flashed to his side immediately.

Julie flinched, startled by my sudden advance, but I paid her belligerent thoughts no mind. I wrapped an arm around Beau's waist, and pulled myself against his warm side. I embraced him tightly for a moment, and then tilted my face up to look at Julie.

"Thank you," I told her, unable to feel anything but gratitude for her efforts in this moment. "That was quicker than I expected it to be."

 _It wasn't for_ _ **you**_ , she thought bitterly. It stung her more than she was willing to admit to see us together like this. "You better get him inside—this storm is gonna be gnarly. All my hair's standing up on my arms." She jutted her chin toward the tent. "How secure is that tent?"

"I all but welded it to the rock," I assured her.

"Good." Julie tilted her head toward the sky, taking in the gravity of the storm. She breathed in through her nose, something instinctual rising inside, some understanding that didn't quite reach her thoughts. I imagined she was probably getting a sense of how bad the storm was going to be.

I glanced that way, too.

 _I'm staying tonight—just so you know,_ she informed me then, _Though you probably already know that, since you like digging around in my head so much._

Truthfully, I hadn't known that. I'd done my best to tune her out in the last couple of hours.

 _I'm gonna let Sarah get her rest tonight, and then she'll come in the morning. She'll keep you connected to the pack tomorrow, and I'll keep us linked tonight. Speaking of which…_

"I'm going to change," she said, looking only at Beau. "I need to get an update from home."

She turned, hanging her jacket on a branch before heading toward the cover of trees. I yanked on Beau's hand, beckoning him toward the shelter of the tent, but as I glanced up into his face, I caught the flicker of desperate concern before he quickly reined it in as he stared after his friend, melting into the trees.

.

 **A/N:** Ugh, these next couple of chapters have been SO hard to pre-write… Poor Edy… :( Poor Jules, poor Beau… Poor everyone! Agh!

Again, sorry for the short one guys—I'll see you all next time! xo


	19. Mutuality

**A/N:** Hey, everyone! I'm back! I did a bit or pre-writing for BD while I was gone. I'm so psyched to get to that part. Currently I'm working on the proposal, and I want to know how YOU think Beau's going to propose!

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Here is another chapter you all have been keenly anticipating, so I won't keep you waiting any longer. Enjoy!

.

I had not prepared with appropriate vigilance for the storm on the mountain, that much was clear. The severity of the storm had superseded even what Archie could have predicted, and I had no options remaining.

Beau's temperature was steadily dropping, the effects of hypothermia dangerously close to setting in, and I felt inescapably anguished. There was no way to build a fire in the raging blizzard, he was wearing every article of his warmest clothing—wool socks and boots on, thermal underclothes under fleece-woven jeans, t-shirt, sweater, parka—inside the winter-grade sleeping bag I'd purchased for him. I had no back-up plan; I had no other source of heat for him.

"W-w-w-w-will m-my trail get l-l-l-lost in the h-h-h… S-storm?" he worried.

A small groan escaped my throat, unbidden. "Don't worry about that," I pleaded. I had slid as far from him in the cramped tent as I could, terrified that my cold breath and the chill emanating from my skin would chill him further. "They won't be able to miss it. Your trail will hold up against the wind and snow."

He was quiet for a minute, and then asked, "W-w-w-what t-t-t-time is it?" His teeth knocked and gnashed so hard I was worried he would chip a tooth, or bite through his tongue.

"Two."

I had tried, many times, to convince him that I could carry him to warmth and safety in no time, but he'd refused, insisting he was warmer here. But what was remaining of his vital core temperature wouldn't last in this cold and wind, and sooner or later, we'd be out of time.

"What can I do?" I pleaded. There had to be _something_ I could do. More than anything, I wanted to pull him close, and to comfort him, but I knew physical contact would only make his condition worse.

I wished I were warm-blooded. Then I could share my body heat with him and make him comfortable, but that aspect, along with every other facet of my humanity, had died many years ago. I had wished to have my humanity back so many times, but I had never craved it more than I did now.

Beau shook his head, jerkily. Either he didn't have any ideas either, or he didn't want to speak them for fear of biting a hole through his cheek.

Outside, Julie whimpered unhappily.

 _Do something, you iceblock! He'll freeze to death!_

"She should g-g-g-go hom-me, w-w-w-where it's-s-s-s w-warm…" Beau mumbled, anxious for his friend.

"She's concerned for you," I interpreted, "She's just fine. _Her_ body can handle these extremes."

"She-he-he…" Beau stuttered, but nothing decipherable transpired.

 _Get him out of here—at least to a lower spot where there's more shelter! Or better yet, take him all the way home! There's got to be someth—_

"What do you want me to do?" I hissed to her, aggrieved and wrought with anxiety, "Carry him through _that_? Why don't you make yourself _useful_ —go fetch a space heater or something."

 _I'm a wolf—not a_ _ **retriever**_ , she retorted silently.

"I'm f-f-f-f-f- _fine._ R-r-r-real-ly," he insisted.

I groaned in agony at the blatant lie, and Julie growled into her paws, feeling much the same way.

 _He'll say that till his toes fall off!_

The wind ripped at the canvas tent walls—and if a vampire hadn't moored it to the rocky bedlam of the mountainside, it probably would have flown away with the violent gust.

 _Okay, I've had enough_ , Julie decided, _If_ _ **you're**_ _not going to do anything, I_ _ **am**_ _._

I heard what she was thinking and scowled. However, I did not protest, because it was the first idea even close to conceivable either of us had come up with in the past few hours.

She stood, shaking the snow out of her fur and tipped her head back to release a ground-shaking howl.

 _Send Sarah! I'm shifting so I can warm Beau up._

"That was _not_ necessary," I murmured bitterly, "Also, that's the worst idea I've ever heard," I added, more loudly as she ducked into the trees to phase back into her human form.

A moment later, Julie chuckled mockingly from just outside the tent. "Better than anything you've been able to think of. _Go fetch a space heater_ ," she mocked in an exaggerated falsetto mockery of my voice. "I'm not a freaking St. Bernard."

She jerked the zipper up and slipped quickly inside the tiny space. Every one of my protective instincts erected their full attention, and I had to fight the urge to shift into an offensive crouch. Judging by her thoughts, she liked being in a confined space with me as much as I did. But if the immature woman-child could control herself, then I could, too.

"I do _not_ condone this. Just give him the coat and get out." Julie had the men's parka from earlier draped over her arm, though I knew she had no intention of supplying him with more useless layers.

 _Don't be stupid—you know why I'm here._

"W-wuh-wuh," Beau stuttered.

Julie threw the parka in the corner of the tent and then headed straight for the spot where Beau was curled in on himself.

"Scooch over, Beau," she said brightly.

"W-why? W-w-w-what are y-you do-do-doing?"

"Make some room," she insisted as she unzipped the sleeping bag.

"N-n-no!" he protested. "Y-you'll-l f-f-f-freeze!"

"Not me," she said brightly, "And I'll have you sweating in no time, too, if you're lucky." She meant the words to have double meaning, of course, just to provoke me.

I couldn't restrain the vicious hiss that slipped from behind my teeth as she conjured the lewd image of them, tied together, sweaty and slick with passion.

She ignored my protest and slid into the sleeping bag next to him. As she did the zipper up behind her, it was impossible to miss the sudden relaxation of Beau's features. I could hold nothing against her, and as much agony as the remainder of this night would bring me, I knew I would endure it without complaint.

Beau sighed contentedly, and I saw another shudder ripple through him as Julie wrapped her arms around him, but knew he was only shaking off the chills now. I saw his fingers, pale and nail beds blue, clutch her bare shoulder, and Julie's breath hissed through her teeth. She swore under her breath.

"S-s-s-sorry," Beau stammered.

"See?" she said brightly, ignoring his apology, "You feel better already, right? This is what they teach in survival classes, if someone gets hypothermia. 'Course, according to the manual, we're supposed to be naked."

I hissed a warning at her as the fantasy flickered through her head again, but she knew she'd won this round. She knew she'd be here all night, no matter what she said, and it had her feeling pretty high and mighty.

"S-s-s-stop it," Beau warned futilely.

"She's just jealous," she told him quietly.

"Of course I am," I whispered, agonizingly frustrated, "You don't have an inkling of an idea how much I wish I could do for him what you're doing now."

 _Seriously? Who does she think she is—she has no right to feel jealous right now. She gets to be with him every damn night, and this is probably the only time he'll_ _ **ever**_ _let me be with him like this—because he's frozen half to death. I'll probably never get an opportunity like this again…_

Julie set about warming up his face, pressing her palms to his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. Her thoughts were melancholy as she drank in every feature she focused on warming, memorizing them as if for the last time. To her, this could have been. She knew that if she didn't have him convinced tonight, or in the early hours of tomorrow before the battle started, that once this was all over, it would be time for him to become one of us.

Abruptly, her thoughts turned mischievous—but I could hear the undertone of quiet desperation—as she leaned in and brushed her nose against the tip of his.

Beau jerked away from her, glaring. "Q-qu-qu- _quit it_. I mean it," he snapped.

Julie laughed. "Looks like your face is warmer, at least—it's all red."

She continued her rounds, pressing her hands over his ears, his lips—her fingers lingering there, and by the glare on Beau's face, I think he noticed it too. Her left hand slid around behind his neck, pressing to the base of his skull, and I watched as his eyes slid shut and he sighed again.

Again, the lewd images flashed in Julie's mind.

 _Other ways I could make him sigh…_

I buried my face in my knees, groaning again.

 _You could always leave,_ she suggested, _If this is too hard for you to watch._

"Not likely," I snapped quietly, as she thought of all the possibilities laid out between them if I _were_ to leave.

"If you don't like my thoughts, stay out of my head," she suggested snidely, but I could hear in her thoughts that she was embarrassed I'd caught her little daydreams.

"Believe me. If I could, I would."

The next few minutes passed in agonizing silence as I watched the two of them together. All mischievousness laid aside for now, Julie stroked his face gently as his heart rate and breathing slowed into a gentler rhythm. I recognized his eventual drift toward unconsciousness.

 _It just isn't right,_ Julie was thinking, _He doesn't_ _ **belong**_ _with her. How can he not see? I could give him so much more. He wouldn't have to change for me—he could be totally an unapologetically_ _ **Beau**_ _… Warm… Perfect… Soft… Blue eyes… Heartbeat… Red cheeks…_

She nestled herself closer to him, forgetting for just a moment, that I was there.

 _If he chose me, we could be like this all the time… But why does he insist that he loves her more than he loves me? Is he really that blind? He loves me, he just doesn't know it yet… I just have to find the right way to convince him…_

Just then, I was met with a brief reprieve from Julie Black's conscientious thoughts. The jumpy, juvenile tenor of Sarah Clearwater's mental voice filtered into my hearing range.

 _Too young… Too young? Yeah, right. I could show them… Just let me get my jaws on one of those reeking bloodsuckers… Then they'd see the formidable force that is Sarah H. Clearwater…_

"Sarah is here," I murmured to Julie, careful to keep my voice quiet so as not to wake Beau.

"Good. She can keep us connected while I take care of this," she said.

I sighed as we settled into silence again, pressing my fingertips against my eyelids as if I could blot out the image of them lying together, so close.

Julie's thoughts drifted lazily. For a long while they skipped back and forth between the upcoming battle and Beau, but eventually her scope narrowed, and again she found herself pining over the boy we both loved so much. He deserved all the love in the world, but he in no way whatsoever deserved the pain we were putting him through, putting _ourselves_ through. As much as Julie tried to put on a self-assured, nonchalant exterior, her internal psyche was constantly wrought with insecurity, doubt, pain and worry. She was desperate, desperate to make him realize that she was the right one for him. That she could do more for him, with him. I tried to ignore the inappropriate instances she ruminated over and focused instead on the other eventualities she saw for them… Aging side by side, marriage, children…

The hope for these things was at war with the hopelessness steadily making its presence known in her mind.

 _I'm almost out of time… I have to do something, anything…_

"You know," she finally murmured softly, "He could still change his mind and choose me." She paused, assuming I would answer, but I said nothing. "I could give him so much more than you can… A family, more time with his friends and family, all the human things he might not want to give up… We could live a… Well, not _normal_ life, but something close to it, anyway…"

I had resolved not to answer her silly monologing. It made me edgy and annoyed, and I didn't think there would be any benefit to letting that frustration show. Sooner or later, she would go to sleep and the rest of my night could pass in, if not peace, at least relative silence. I figured she'd ascertained I wouldn't answer her little speech, and had decided to go to sleep, but a couple minutes later, her still very aware thoughts startled me.

 _Hey—if I asked you something, would you give me the answer?_

"Perhaps," I said, searching her mind for the most dominant inquiry, but her mind was racing, wandering in so many different directions, one question on top of the other, that I had no way of knowing which one took precedence.

"But would you tell me the truth?"

I smiled to myself, enjoying the ability to tug on her leg a bit. "Perhaps," I repeated.

"It's only fair," she insisted, "You're always poking around in my head. I should get the chance to see inside yours, just for tonight."

Maybe that was true. "I can't determine which racing thought you'd like me to answer."

In that instant, Julie's mind quieted and focused in on the pressing matter of where my envious feelings stood. She was quiet for a time, attempting to work the courage up to speak the question aloud. I waited patiently, giving her the time.

"Are you jealous of me?" she finally asked. Her question was blunt and completely honest. I could detect no undercurrent of vindication in her thoughts; she was genuinely, sincerely curious. _I mean, not just right now, tonight, but at other times, too._

"Yes," I admitted, my voice just a whisper, "I've been jealous from the moment I met you at the prom last year. You and he have always shared a connection I don't think I'll ever quite be able to understand. He behaves differently in your presence; he smiles more, jokes more, lets things go easier… When you're not forcing yourself on him, that is… I've always been envious of that… It goes without saying that it's much worse when he's away from me, with you."

"Do you… Ever get distracted… You know, find yourself thinking about it all the time?" Her voice quavered unevenly as she spoke, and try as she might to block me from the deeper workings of her mind, I heard the misery there. _Why should I be the only one who needs to suffer? At least if it's as hard for her as it is for me, then I won't feel so bad…_

"My mind doesn't work quite the same way yours does," I replied gently, feeling genuine empathy for the girl. "I can think of many different things at once, so in some ways it makes it easier—to be able to distract myself. But on the same token, it also means I'm able to think about you and him at all times; I'm always wondering what he's thinking about, _who_ he's thinking about when he becomes distant and quiet."

 _So she he figures he thinks about me—even when he's with her?_ A glimmer of hope broke through the dark despair of her mind. _I wonder if that happens a lot…?_

"I think it does," I answered, "I believe he thinks about you more often than I like." There was an inexplicable urge to comfort the poor girl, welling up inside me. I could so easily be in her place, and I could only imagine how awful that would feel. "I know he worries about you and your unhappiness. Of course, you must know that; you use it as an excuse to push your luck wherever and whenever you can."

 _Like_ _ **you're**_ _much better. You don't fight so fair yourself._ "I have no choice—I don't have the same advantages you do…" _Like knowing beyond a doubt that he's in love with you._

I was quiet for a moment, not quite knowing what to say to that.

 _He's in love with me, too… It's just—he doesn't_ _ **know**_ _it yet._

I sighed discontentedly, because I could not dispute her suspicion. I simply didn't know how deep Beau's feelings went for her.

"That bugs you, doesn't it?" she guessed. "I bet it makes you wish you could read his mind, too."

I shook my head. "He's happier this way—no matter how insane it makes me."

Outside, the wind howled like a ghost, shaking the canvas so harshly I worried it would rip. Julie's thoughts were immediately oriented around Beau, pressed so closely to her. She stroked the arm that clutched her soothingly.

"Thank you," I murmured softly, grateful for her presence, "for being here to keep him warm, and safe."

"Of course," she said, as if her willingness to help was a reflexive instinct. Maybe it was. _It's not_ _ **easy**_ _for me if that's what she thinks—my nose is on fire, and I'll probably smell like a bloodsucker for a week, but whatever…_

She deliberated for a couple more minutes and finally said, "What made you decide to be so patient? I mean—if you're really just as crazy jealous as I am."

"I saw how much it was hurting him to force him into choosing, and I couldn't continue down that path. I couldn't impede his happiness. It was… Taking a toll on our relationship, and I couldn't tolerate that. Mostly I was worried he would hurt himself trying to sneak away to see you. After I'd managed to convince myself that he'd be safe with you, it seemed irrational to continue motivating such drastic measures in him."

"You know, he could still choose me," she said again.

Something sank in my stomach. "I know he could," I acknowledged. I wondered if I would feel more confident if he'd made a formal proposal by now.

She thought about this—the possibility of him foregoing a future with me in exchange for one with her. For the first time, she thought about the consequences beyond just the two of them. "What would you do if he changed his mind about you?" she wondered.

Immediately, she was picturing my livid, furious face—the battle that would occur between us.

"I could never do that to him," I whispered in the darkness, "It would hurt him so much…"

She contemplated that for a second. _She's right—of course she's right. Always thinks she knows everything about everyone… Ugh. But I couldn't do that either…_ "You're right," she murmured, "I know you are. But sometimes…"

"Sometimes it's a compelling idea," I finished for her.

She laughed out loud, smothering her giggles in the sleeping bag so she wouldn't wake Beau. "Exactly."

I found myself laughing a little, too.

Several minutes passed as Julie's thoughts steadily wound in a downward direction. She knew she wouldn't win the fight, no matter what form it came in—intellectual or physical, and she knew just as much as I hoped, how it would end. She thought of the two of us going off together. The agony that rose like a quake inside her heart was visceral and very potent.

 _What am I going to do with myself?_ she wallowed, forgetting for a moment that I was listening, _How will I be able to live without him? How will I go on? I can't imagine how much more agonizing it'll be when he's gone, if it's already this painful right now…_ Her thoughts turned suddenly aware of my presence, and she directed her questions toward me now. _What was it like for you, to lose him? When you thought you'd lost him forever. How did you… Cope?_

I felt my shoulders bow underneath the assault of my memories, and I curled in on myself as the shadow of the pain I'd felt ghosted inside my chest. Not quite a secondary tearing-in-half of the heart, but a burning, stabbing pain along the scar tissue. "There were two separate times I thought that," I confided, "The first time, when I brought myself to leave him, when I thought I had him convinced he'd eventually be better off without me… that was… Well, it was more bearable than the second time. I knew he'd go on living his life, human and safe, and I hoped that, in time, he would leave me in his past… Six months passed, and I was able to keep myself away from him… But I knew my distractions wouldn't last me much longer. I was very close to returning, if only to make sure he was safe, and happy. At least, this was what I tried to convince myself of. I like to tell myself I would have left again, if I'd found him well…

"But he wasn't well, wasn't happy, and I knew I never would have left again if I'd discovered him in that state."

Unbidden, Julie remembered the blankness of his stare, his misery, and I flinched.

"And the second time… The time you thought he was—dead?" She very nearly choked on the last word.

"It was… Very difficult for me. I'm not sure I can quite put it into words… But quite succinctly, I did not cope. I didn't try to. I couldn't… Couldn't live without him. I couldn't imagine a life without his smile, his lovely eyes, his exquisite visage, even if I never saw those things again… At least they'd be there—somewhere in the world. I could compare how I felt to being flayed, set aflame, submerged in a boiling pit of acid, devoured by lions, all of that and more, but it would never adequately describe what I went through…"

"But you did it, you put yourself through it because you wanted him safe. _Human_."

"Yes."

"I mean… _Why_?" Her thoughts swirled in answerless circles. She couldn't understand why I would be fighting so hard for his affections now, if before I had campaigned so fiercely for the perseverance of his humanity.

I did my best to explain. "From the very beginning, from the second that I realized I loved him, I knew there were only four variations to how our story could end. The first, the best one for Beau, would be if he didn't feel the same way about me as I invariably did for him. If he didn't love me with the intensity with which I loved him, if it were mere teenage infatuation, he would eventually get over me and move on with his life. Of course, it would never change the way _I_ felt about him—it is a very uncommon thing for us to experience a genuine change regarding emotional bonds of any sort. There are unchangeable and immovable aspects of ourselves, and to experience such a transformation is very rare for our kind… It changes us in unexplainable, irrevocable ways.

"The second alternative, the alternative I'd originally strived toward, was that I'd stay with him throughout his human life—that I would stay by his side as he continued to age and go through the normal stages and experiences of a normal course of life. But that option wasn't as good for him—he would essentially waste his life with someone who couldn't be human with him, who wouldn't be able to have his children, or age alongside him, or experience anything new with him… But it was the alternative most palatable for me. Knowing all along, of course, that when his life inevitably ended, I would find a way to die too… But the danger my world posed to him was undeniable. It seemed like everything that _could_ go wrong _did_. I was terrified that it wouldn't be old age that ended his life if I stayed near him while he remained human.

"So I decided on variation number three. Which turned out to be the worst mistake of my very long life, as you know. I chose to erase myself from his world, hoping to force him into the first alternative. It didn't work, and it very nearly killed us both.

"What do I have left but the fourth option? He wants this life for himself… I've been doing what I can to delay him, trying to make him see reason to change his mind, but you and I both know how obstinate he can be. I'll be lucky to ascertain even a few more months…"

 _I can't believe how stupid I've been—to think she never had any real feelings for him, that she was just selfish and wanted him for herself… I've been such an idiot… But it still doesn't change that I'm the better one for him… That she wants to kill him…_

"I like option one," she barely whispered, struggling to uphold her boastful persona, despite the fact she knew I was reading her every thought. "I hate to say it, but I can see how much you love him… in your own weird way. I can't argue that anymore. It's too obvious… But I don't think you should give up on the first alternative yet. Give him some time; I'm positive he'd be okay after awhile." She was remembering back to the few weeks leading up to our reunion, how she'd seen the life coming back into him, how she was seeing some of the old Beau come back, and that their relationship—despite its new obstacles attributed to her recent change—had begun to take on new parameters. "If he hadn't jumped off that cliff in March… If your scrawny brother hadn't seen that and come to rescue him, and if it all hadn't gotten so twisted and he hadn't run off to you… He would have found happiness again. I had a plan."

I laughed quietly at her convoluted strategy to win Beau's heart. She'd had the escalations of her advances organized to a T, week by week. "It was a well thought out plan," I commended her. "You might have had your way." It seemed obligatory to give her the benefit of the doubt, especially now, when she was about to lose so much…

Julie was quiet for a moment, ruminating over the possibility of that—unwilling to entirely abandon hope. "He could still choose me," she barely whispered, incorrigible.

"He could."

"I'm the better choice for him."

"You are," I acknowledged.

My corroboration seemed to surprise her.

"I've had some time to think about that," I explained, "In some ways, you'd be better suited for him than an average human. Beau requires some… Extra attention, and your extra abilities would be sufficient enough to protect him from himself, and anything else that crosses his path… You have proven that you're entirely capable of doing that, and I'll owe you for protecting him in my absence for the remainder of eternity…

"But… I'm not foolish enough to make the same mistake again, Julie. I've resolved not to ever make his choices for him again, and as long as he chooses me, I'll be here."

 _And if he decided he wanted me, instead?_

"Then I would leave."

Julie snorted silently. _That easy, huh?_

"I would make it seem so, yes, for him. But I wouldn't go far—I'd watch from a distance, make sure he's safe… You see, _your_ mortality is just as fragile as his, and your lifelong commitment is not guaranteed. That, or there is always the situation Samantha, Elliot and Lee found themselves in. In that case, you would have no choice but to leave him—and I would always be waiting with bated breath, hoping fervently for that to happen."

Instead of being offended, she sighed quietly. "I guess that's fair… Thanks for letting me in your head a little. I wasn't expecting your cooperation… Or your honesty."

"It was the least I could do," I told her, the empathy welling once more. "You know, Julie, if it weren't for the fact that we're natural rivals and that you're also trying to steal away the sole reason for my existence, I think we might have the potential to be friends."

Julie smirked, trying to picture that. "Maybe if you weren't a soul-draining succubus, intent on killing the boy I love… Well, no, not even then."

We laughed together. In a way that seemed very simple, a question I'd been meaning to ask came to mind. "Can I ask you something?"

Julie was abruptly confused. "You have to ask?"

"I can only read your current thoughts. You have to be thinking of it for me to hear… It's nothing much—only something Beau was rambling on about the other night… It might mean nothing, but I remain curious regardless."

 _Get on with it,_ she urged impatiently.

"Something about a third husband? He spoke of bravery, strength, humanity…?"

I only needed to mention the legend, and the entirety of its story bloomed to life in Julie Black's mind—rife with vibrant color and animation. Immediately I saw where Beau might draw a parallel to the simple human man who had sacrificed his own life for the sake of his wife's.

I hissed in the darkness.

"What?" Julie asked, surprised and completely dubious.

"Sometimes I wish your elders would keep their stories to themselves," I seethed.

Julie snorted, drawing the wrong conclusion. "You know your kind have always been the villains."

"I could care less about that part," I snapped, "Don't you understand which character Beau would identify with?"

 _If he already sees himself as a bloodsucker, that's ridiculous… But… Oh._

It dawned on her then. "The third husband. Great," she intoned sarcastically, "That's just perfect."

"He insisted upon being there in the clearing during the battle, to do what little he could." I sighed exasperatedly, wondering if this self-sacrificing tendency of his would change once he was immortal. "That was one reason for my remaining here with him tomorrow. He can be quite… Ingenious when he sets his eye on something. Unstoppable, even."

"Your Vampire Soldier sister probably gave him the idea more than anything," she defended.

I didn't know if that was true or not.

Julie exhaled heavily. "So when does this ceasefire end? First light, or do we wait until the battle's finished?"

"First light, I say."

"Definitely," Julie agreed, grinning widely.

We both laughed, and then fell into silence. The atmosphere had a feeling of finality to it, and I would let her sleep now.

"Get your rest, Julie; you'll need to be prepared for tomorrow."

Julie settled in against Beau, whose breathing was peaceful and even. I prepared myself for the long night, knowing that when the sun came up, he would be mine once more.

Julie might be holding him tonight, but if Beau's choice stood true, _I_ would be the one holding him for all of eternity.

.

 **A/N:** So we've come to the hardest chapter… Wish me luck as I finish pre-writing and revising!

Let me know what you thought of this one, and again what you see in your minds for Beau's proposal ;)


	20. Eclipsed

**A/N:** I listened to Coldplay's 'What If' basically on repeat while I wrote this chapter—so blame Chris Martin for the angst, particularly toward the end of this chapter :)

A longer one for you guys this time!

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The remainder of the night passed in a torturous fashion.

My only reprieve presented itself a couple of hours later, when Beau began to murmur my name in his sleep.

"Edythe," he whispered.

 _Ugh, seriously?_ Julie complained groggily, _Is he gonna do this all night?_

"Edythe, stay…" he continued, and I couldn't help smiling to myself. "Love you…"

 _Think I'm gonna be sick…_

Beau's brow knotted, and he murmured a few unintelligible words. The next hour or so passed in this way, brief series of quiet unconsciousness, followed by occasional gibberish. I was used to nights spent this way, but Julie sank in and out of consciousness, woken each time Beau mumbled something else in her ear. She kept up a flurry of half-conscious belligerent grumping until, just as the sun began to crest over the mountains, Beau said her name.

"Jules," he murmured, and I felt myself stiffen against the unrelenting envy that sparked behind my sternum and twisted my stomach, "Jules, please—be careful…"

 _Okay, maybe this isn't so bad,_ she amended, perking up considerably. She snuggled closer to Beau as he whispered her name again.

"You, too," he garbled.

He said some more gibberish, and then finally fell silent.

The sun rose clear and unobstructed by the clouds, hoisting itself into the azure sky—almost as blue as Beau's eyes. The unveiled light woke him earlier than usual, especially after the restless night he'd had.

I recognized the familiar shift in his breathing and heart rate, and a couple moments later, I saw movement from inside the sleeping bag. Julie's thoughts were entirely unconscious. She breathed heavily in Beau's ear, pressed tight against his chest.

His hands came up, curling around Julie's shoulders. This time his nail beds were a healthy, pink color. I saw him push against her hold, and he craned his neck until he could find me in the morning light, unmoved from where I had stayed huddled in the corner for the past few excruciating hours.

When his eyes met mine, searching and soft, something released inside my chest—a tight fist uncurling.

"Um, morning," he mumbled, smiling awkwardly.

I offered him a soft smile, trying not to let the lingering anguish from last night show on my face. As difficult as it had been to watch him sleep with another girl in his arms all night, I knew I would owe Julie for keeping him warm. "Good morning."

"Is it any warmer out there?"

"I don't think you're at risk of hypothermia today," I assured him softly.

His face was flushed, a fine layer of perspiration at his temples, and his heart rate was just a little faster to accommodate the heightened temperature of his core. Besides, the sun was shining today, and the flurries from last night had ceased. The weather would be much more amenable today.

Beau squirmed in the sleeping bag, trying to turn over, but Julie's arms were curled tightly around him. He strained for the zipper of the sleeping bag, but his one arm was pinioned between their bodies, and he couldn't reach with the other. Unconsciously, as he attempted futilely to move away from her, Julie only pressed herself closer to his body, her arms constricting around him.

Beau huffed an exasperated sigh in her ear, and I saw his eyes roll.

"Some assistance?" I offered.

"Please."

Eager to help, and feeling just a little bitterly mischievous after the night of listening to Julie's taunting thoughts, I reached forward and smoothly pulled the zipper down.

She slumped to the floor—which I imagined felt like ice to her overheated skin—in an unceremonious tangle of arms and legs. She gasped, her eyes flying open and still only half-conscious, rolled instinctively back toward the warmth the sleeping bag and Beau's body provided.

In her rushed search for her own relief, she paid little mind to what she was doing, gorilla arms swinging willy-nilly. I heard the grunt of air explode forcefully from Beau's lungs when her elbow drove into his stomach, and without thinking, I reached forward to throw her off of him. Furious and completely out of patience—I'd expended enough to last me two lifetimes, thank you very much—I launched her into the side of the tent, snapping and snarling and immediately putting myself between Beau and anymore thoughtless threats she might pose.

A satisfying shudder erupted through the poles as she made contact with the canvas barrier and the steel uprights, and then slumped to the hard, icy ground once more.

In half a second, she matched my aggressive, crouching stance, defensive, irate growls issuing from between her bared teeth. In the very tiny, cramped quarters, her body shivered violently, phantom russet fur ghosting across the surface of her shoulders and arms.

And then Beau was there between us, his eyes wild, one arm stretched toward each of us.

"Whoa, whoa!" he shouted, and I reached forward to grip his wrist, ready to pull him out of the way if Julie demonstrated any more loss of control. Instantly, his touch helped to calm me. Beau took a breath. "Everybody just chill." He looked intently at me, and then turned to give the same look to Julie.

I saw how distressing this was for Beau, and immediately reigned in my overactive temper. Obviously he was unharmed, and our confrontation was bothering him more than anything else.

On his other side, Julie was still shaking, having a bit of a tougher time controlling her rage than I was.

 _Calm down,_ she ordered herself, _Keep Beau safe; calm down._

Outside the tent, Sarah's confused, terrified growls sliced through the nippy morning air. She clawed anxiously at the tent walls.

 _What's going on in there? Just calm down, Jules—you're too close to him. If you lose it, you'll regret it. Get out of there if you have to!_

 _Keep Beau safe; calm down,_ Julie continued to repeat like a mantra as she drew several deep breaths. First the phantom fur faded from the surface of her skin, and then the tremulous vibrating in her core slowed. Eventually, the only thing that remained unsteady were her hands, which she clenched and flexed as she continued to glare into my eyes, spewing silent epithets and insults.

Beau waited until she turned her gaze to him to speak. "Are you okay?"

Julie scoffed, an incredulous sound in the back of her throat, and she rolled her eyes. "I'm fine." _Idiot—how fragile does he think I am?_

My rage surfaced again at her belligerence, and I felt my eyes narrow. When I looked at Beau again, I was surprised to find his stern glare fixed on me.

"You owe her an apology."

For a moment, I thought I'd heard him wrong, and I felt the annoyed glare melt off my face, replaced by a mask of shock. "Excuse me?"

"That wasn't cool," Beau insisted, unyielding, "You could have gone about that a little more considerately. I'm just fine—no harm done. No need to start a fight over something so stupid."

" _Stupid_?" I couldn't help but repeat, my voice high and tight with disbelief, "She plowed her mangy monster elbow into you!"

"Call me a monster _one more time,_ _snake_ ," Julie snapped.

I swung my vicious glare back to her face. "All I'm saying," I told her through clenched teeth, "Is that you should be more careful where you throw your reckless self next time. If you so much as—"

"If you're looking for a reason for me to tear your pretty little—"

"Hey!" Beau shouted sharply. I had never seen him so annoyed. "Just quit it! Both of you." He glared at me pointedly again. "She didn't do me any harm, and you overreacted. So just tell her you're sorry, because we all know you were in error here."

I was immediately stricken by his reprimand—embarrassed, really. It was impossible for me to inject any kind of sincerity into the words, so I hoped simply saying them would be sufficient for Beau at this point.

Regretfully, I locked my eyes on Julie's. "My apologies, dog… My temper may have gotten away from me."

"You _think_?" she sneered.

I shifted my eyes back to Beau's face, searching for his approval, just in time to see his shoulders quiver.

"You're cold," I realized. "Here." I retrieved the parka Julie had dumped in the corner last night and tucked it around his shoulders, over top of his other layers.

The tension had abruptly dissolved, and Julie stretched her arms theatrically. She started back for the sleeping bag. "If you two don't mind, I'll grab just a few more minutes of shut-eye. Can't say I got a whole lot of sleep with Beau jabbering in my ear all night."

Beau's face flooded with color as Julie zipped the bag up behind her and rolled toward the wall.

"It was your idea," I said to her, trying to keep my tone impassive, though tiny detonations of rage and annoyance were still going off inside my chest.

"I didn't say I didn't _enjoy_ it," she insisted, "Just that I could use ten more minutes here."

"I'm so glad you had such a lovely night." I couldn't help the snide remark, and I regretted it immediately. Julie knew she'd struck a nerve.

She opened her eyes and propped herself on an elbow, leaning her head on her hand. "What—you didn't?" she enquired smugly. _Because I sure did… Snuggled up nice and cozy…_

I struggled to keep my voice even, unwilling to give her the satisfaction again. "I've had worse nights."

"This one made the top ten, though, right?" she pushed. _Come on,_ she goaded, _Admit it!_

I sighed exasperatedly. I could see she wasn't going to let up.

"Perhaps," I conceded, deciding to play the bigger part here.

She grinned—that _had_ satisfied her—and closed her eyes, rolling over.

 _Ha,_ she thought complacently, _I knew it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll just go on back to the_ _ **wonderful**_ _dream I was having about Beau…_

And she recalled, with perfect, intricate detail, the dream she'd so rudely been awakened from… That did it.

"However, if I had been the one in your place last night, it would not have come close to the top ten _best_ nights of my life. Dream about _that_." I smirked at her, folding my arms smugly across my chest.

She didn't have time to resist the images my words conjured in her mind, and abruptly, she sat up. "You know what? I think I'll just go and get some _fresh_ air. It reeks in here, actually."

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"Stop it," Beau muttered.

"Besides, I need an update from Sam. May as well go get that now," she grumbled the last part to herself. _Catch up on my sleep later, I guess._

She scrambled out of the sleeping bag and pulled herself toward the tent entrance, reaching for the zipper.

Surprising her, _and_ me, Beau abruptly reached out and seized her wrist. "Jules, hold on…"

Julie glanced down at his fingers around her arm, and then glanced up into his face, her eyes suddenly vulnerable and soft. She hadn't been expecting this, and honestly, neither had I.

 _He doesn't want me to go…_

Beau hesitated, and I could see clearly that he was deliberating over whether to say something more or not. Julie saw it too, and she waited.

"If I asked you to stay, too, would you?" he finally asked.

Julie's face went blank with shock. _He doesn't want me to fight? He's_ _ **that**_ _worried about me?_ Abruptly she was confused. _Either he wants me or he doesn't… All this back and forth is exhausting me…_

She shook her head at him. "I can't," she said. Not only was her loyalty as Beta too strong to repudiate, but she knew she wouldn't survive another day staying here, watching him choose me over her, as always. _He's made his choice—it's obvious I've done everything I can… Might as well just go get this over with…_

Pain flashed visibly across Beau's features.

"Don't worry about me," she assuaged him brightly, "I'll be fine—just like always." _Just like always… Just like always, I'm the one who has to go, who can never stay. Just like always, she's the one you'll choose…_

She turned to go again, and Beau caught her shoulder this time, his eyes wide and almost wild with the emotion they conveyed.

"Just—"

"What is it?"

"… Be careful," he told her.

She grinned. "Relax." She reached up to pull his hand off her shoulder. "See you later."

She ducked out of the tent then, zipping it behind her, and Beau watched her go. For a minute, he stood half-crouched—unable to stand fully upright in the small tent—and then he lowered himself to the floor, staring intently at the door.

It was obvious Julie's leaving caused him pain, concern and trepidation. I didn't know how to comfort him. There was the absence of words, but there was also the sinking feeling in my stomach. I hadn't realized he would be so dismantled over her going off to battle. I hadn't realized he'd feared for her life almost as much as he feared for mine.

I felt like a fool, only realizing it now, as I went to sit by him, leaning my head against his shoulder.

Outside, Julie, in her wolf form, paced along the tree line just a yard or two away, tense with confusion and indecision. Her footfalls were whisper soft against the snow-powdered stones, and though I could hear her, I doubted Beau could.

 _Ugh, what am I doing? Willingly walking away from him like this—there has to be more I can do, more I can try. It's possibly the last time I'll ever see him, and I just leave it like that? No hug, none of the words I wanted to say? Nothing? I should go back—say what I need to say. There's more; I haven't done enough, I should have tried harder… I should have… Should have…_

 _Get your head in the game, girl. There's a battle this morning—in case you forgot,_ Quinn butted into Julie's thought processes.

 _You can pine over the kid, later,_ Lee griped.

 _I'm so sick of this, Jules! There's more important stuff to be focusing on!_

 _Enough, Julie. I know you've been dealing with a lot, but the battle will begin soon, and we need you prepared and centralized around the fight. Push your personal matters aside for now,_ Samantha ordered.

 _The psychic said we've got about an hour. At least that's what he told Sam. So shake it off and get your ass over here!_

 _You guys are so compassionate,_ Julie grumbled unhappily.

 _Just trying to help a sister out,_ Emma thought, _You can be heartbroken later. We need you in beast mode right now._

 _Emma's right,_ Sam clarified, _Keep your eye on the target, Julie._

She sighed, unconvinced, and I knew that her focus would remain scattered until she reached some sort of conclusion over the matter between her and Beau. For the first time, I myself felt troubled over Julie's wellbeing. If she stayed this distracted, there was no way of telling how her fighting would go.

Despite her sisters' valiant efforts, they weren't having much luck getting her focused. Knowing how much it would destroy Beau to see her hurt, or worse, I began to wonder how I could help to take her attentions off her heartbreak over him.

There was something else there, too, lurking beneath this motivation, and I couldn't quite ferret it out.

"How much longer?" Beau asked after a long few moments of quiet.

His sullen voice pulled me from my contemplations. "Archie told Samantha it should be an hour or so."

"You stay with me." Beau put an arm around me, his muscles clenching tight, as if his frail physical force was all it would take to make me stay. "No matter what."

"I stay with you, no matter what," I affirmed, twisting to look up into his face, conflicted. If Julie knew the truth, that we were as committed to each other as we were, would it help her to leave this in the past, to move forward—at least for today? If she knew we were as good as engaged, at least settled on forever together, would it help put her attentions where they were needed? Would it help to orient herself around the battle, so she could focus on destroying, rather than being destroyed—and as a result, avoiding the heartbreak it would inevitably inflict on Beau?

I could see how torn he was, even now, the conflict, the terror, the concern apparent in the clear, glass pool of his eyes. I reached up to touch his face.

"Don't worry," I assured him, "They're all going to be fine. They know what they're doing."

He nodded, though he appeared to remain unconvinced.

"Don't worry," I said again, and leaned up to kiss his forehead.

"Sure, sure," he breathed. His eyes lingered on the tent's zipper, where Julie had gone through.

Her flurry of whirlwind thoughts was still as present as ever. She hadn't been able to bring herself to head off into the forest where her pack waited for her, still deliberating. I warred with my decisions, not wanting to have to take the drastic measures of breaking her heart—whether it was for good reasons or not. Maybe, even overhearing a not-so-public display of affection would put her off…

"I could distract you," I offered, making my voice low and seductive as I traced my fingertips across the edge of his countenance, marveling at the warmth, the pulse of life force underneath his skin… Of their own accord, my fingers continued their descent down his throat and across his chest.

Finally, his eyes shifted to my face, and I brought my other hand alongside the opposite side of his jaw, pulling his face down and touching my lips to his.

Outside the tent, Julie groaned, disgusted and despairing, hearing the pickup in Beau's pulse. _Oh, ugh—_ _ **please**_ _don't do that when I'm right here. Nasty… Sick… Disgusting… Do_ _ **not**_ _wanna picture that…_

Abruptly, Beau shivered, and I jerked back, mortified.

"Maybe not right now," I answered myself, dropping my hands into my lap.

Undeterred, Beau wrapped his arm around my shoulders again and squeezed, resting his cheek in my hair. "I know how you could distract me," he said after a moment.

"I'm all ears."

"Well… We could just talk… I mean—if you're not willing to risk hypothermia. I am if you are."

I laughed quietly. "Talk about what?"

"Well… I'm curious—you said if last night had gone differently, even it wouldn't have made your top ten… Which ones have?"

I smiled, liberated from my anxiety for just a moment. As always, Beau was being his typical self: slightly insecure, completely beguiling, and entirely too perceptive. "You caught that, did you?" I murmured, "Try to guess."

He snorted. "That's impossible. There's, like, a century of nights I wasn't there for."

I pulled back to smile at him. "All of my best nights have occurred within the timeframe where I've known you."

This seemed to surprise him. "Oh."

"By quite a large margin, too."

He was quiet for a minute, seeming to mull this over. "I can only think of mine," he admitted. He glanced sideways at me. "But I don't know if they'd be the same as yours."

"They might be," I encouraged him.

"Well, there was the first night, obviously. After the meadow."

I smiled softly, recalling the hours we'd stayed up talking, getting to know each other. "That's one of mine, too. Of course," I teased, "You were unconscious for my favorite part." That night had not been the first occasion when he'd spoken my name in his sleep, but it _had_ been the first time he'd said he loved me.

He knew what I was referring to, and sighed, spots of color appearing on his neck and the cheek that was turned toward me. "I seem to make a pretty good fool out of myself in my sleep, don't I?"

"Not a fool," I disagreed.

He turned to me, ignoring that. "So, how did I mortify myself last night, then?"

I studied his face, seeing the unspoken questions in his eyes. Obviously, he feared he'd said something that would displease me. I knew him speaking Julie's name would undoubtedly fall into that category, and I didn't necessarily want to upset him or embarrass him, now.

"Is it that bad?"

I frowned. "No," I assured him. Of course, it wasn't as dire as I was making it seem, was it? "Mostly you said my name, like every other night." I grinned at him, queuing up the dimples in the hopes that it would distract him from pressing the matter further.

But he was still staring down at me suspiciously and I sighed. "Near the end, though, you did start mumbling another name…" His face turned effervescent with blood flush. "She seemed to enjoy that quite a bit," I continued, realizing I was whispering. I did the best I could to keep the disheartenment out of my tone, but I didn't think I fooled him. "She seemed to take it as some sort of omen… That you hadn't quite decided yourself yet…" This next part seemed to expulse as a question, and I wondered if _I_ subconsciously was still doubting this?

To my surprise, Beau laughed. "She's delusional," he muttered. "I say my mom's name in my sleep all the time, don't I? Doesn't mean I'm in love with _her_."

 _Maybe I am delusional,_ Julie sulked outside the tent. Her mental voice startled me. I hadn't realized she was still here.

 _Come_ _ **on,**_ _girl. Get your ass over here! You're wasting time!_

There was something in Beau's tone that didn't quite have me convinced. I stared at a loose thread in my jeans, afraid to meet his eyes, for fear of the hesitance I would see there.

"So," he said after a few seconds, "That's one favorite night—what about the nine others?"

"They're probably very similar to yours," I said, "Tell me another."

Beau thought about that for a minute. "Well, we already went over that first night… Then there was the night we flew home from Italy."

I felt my eyebrows lift.

"Not one of yours?" he guessed.

"No," I shook my head in disagreement. Despite the multiple horrors that had taken place that day, the impossible had been delivered to the seat next to me: Beau, safe and unharmed. Less than a day before, I had believed that would never be true again, and I had had no intention of wasting that joy, that most ultimate of second chances. "It _is_ one of mine—but I'm surprised it's on your list. Weren't you under the insane notion that I was going to flee as soon as the aircraft doors opened?"

Beau smiled a little and shrugged. "Yeah—but you were still there beside me."

For a moment, I couldn't speak. I had done nothing to earn the right of having his benevolent, caring self by my side. It was an impossible gift. Despite all the trauma I'd put him through, he could still continue to be grateful for my presence… It was the truest expression of his love I'd ever known. I reached up to kiss his cheek, very briefly, so I wouldn't chill his skin.

"You love me more than I deserve."

He laughed quietly, with an edge of some unnamed emotion. "And then, the next night, once we were home," he continued.

"Yes," I agreed, "That one is on my list too. Though it may be for differing reasons." I knew he probably had chosen that night as one of his favorites because it had been the night my family had voted to turn him into a vampire. But it was mine for a few different causes.

For one, it was the first time I had comprehended the depth of his love for me. For so long I had felt we were unequal in that field, and for the first time, I had realized that Beau's devotion went beyond normal human parameters; that, though the rest of him remained human, his love was undeniably supernatural.

I tried to explain this part as best I could. "And then," I added, taking a bracing breath, "It was also the night we agreed we'd marry after graduation."

As I spoke the words, it became clear to me that my intentions hadn't entirely been about protecting Julie's welfare. It was suddenly very obvious that there was another, vicious undertone to my motivations. As she took in these words, I could not deny the deep, solid satisfaction that settled itself inside my chest.

I was a selfish, selfish monster—underneath everything else. But hadn't I promised her, that I would stop at nothing to win his love? Hadn't I proven it to myself that my life and Beau's were one thread, braided together? I _could not_ survive without him.

She had been coping all along, and she _would_ go on surviving without him. Whether she liked it or not.

Outside, her thoughts went blank with all-consuming shock.

Beau's face, too, appeared a little blank. But finally, he sighed and smiled. "A summer wedding," he said quietly, pulling me close again.

Julie's shock was steadily melting away, freeing her paralyzed mind bit by it.

 _What? No…_

"I love you," Beau told me gently, twining his fingers through mine—I could feel they were cooler than usual. "I've loved you, _chosen_ you, from the very beginning—and as much as I'm terrified of a big huge extravaganza of a party, I can't wait to spend the rest of forever with you."

 _No… NO! It can't be! They're getting_ _ **married**_ **?!**

"I love you, too—with my entire being," I promised, gazing up into his face. Eternity, and all its possibilities, stretched out between us. "And I hope, in time, that you'll find it in your heart to forgive me for this."

 _Please, Beau,_ _ **please**_ _—no! You can't marry her! What are you_ _ **doing**_ _?! No!_

A moment later, all coherent thought faded from Julie's mind, replaced by the ear-piercing, stagnant blast of her agony. All words were replaced by her anguished screaming.

I could only differentiate between her mental and physical voice when Beau's crumpled, confused brow smoothed, and sudden comprehension came over his face.

Julie's sobs punctured the still mountain air, and she made an abrupt turn, tearing herself away from where she stood, barreling into the inky forest.

 _ **Now**_ _our truce is over,_ I thought to myself, knowing she would hate me forever for this.

Beau's face was pale, his eyes wide with shock. "She was listening," he barely breathed.

"Yes," I admitted.

"And you knew."

"Yes."

He didn't say a word, his face was still vacant with disbelief. I watched as he turned his unseeing eyes on the canvas door, waiting for the anger, waiting for his rebuttal.

"I never promised to fight fair," I reminded him softly, "I know it was a cruel and a heartless move, but I thought she deserved to know."

He didn't respond to my words, and automatically, one of my hands lifted, reaching out for him—but I stopped myself, worrying that my touch would only do more harm than good.

He startled me when he leaped to his feet, his eyes glassy with sudden, unshed tears.

"Will you ever be able to forgive me?" I asked him, still on the floor.

He turned toward the tent door, and then back to me. "It's not—you didn't—I—" he rambled incoherently as he reached for his boots. "It's not your fault," he finally said, "It's-it's _mine_. All this time… I've been—such an idiot—but I—I have to…"

Then he was yanking on the tent's zipper, the heavy parka abandoned on the floor beside me. I watched him for a moment, frozen with the fear of his rejection and anger, though I knew I deserved both.

"I've got to—I need to-to find her, tell her…"

Finally, I unfroze, going to his side as he continued to fumble with the zipper.

"Beau, it's cold out there," I protested, "And she'll be miles away by now."

"I don't _care_ ," he spat, and as the last word exited his mouth, the tears, too, spat from his eyes, dripping down the straight edge of his nose. "I have to _do_ something." Finally, he found purchase on the zipper and yanked it out of his way.

He launched himself vigorously into the early morning sunlight, and, not knowing what else to do, I followed him silently.

Sarah Clearwater's thoughts were only compassionate. _Poor Jules,_ she thought, _Poor Beau._ Though she'd only met him once, she considered Beau as much a friend to her as any of the other kids on the reservation. She was so young, barely fourteen, and the depth of the situation didn't quite touch her sphere of comprehension, though she was just as aware of what had gone on, and was going on in Julie's head at present, as the rest of the pack was.

I couldn't let Beau follow Julie into the woods—not when the newborns were guaranteed to be close. I thought he knew this, the seriousness of the situation, but he didn't slow when he reached the forest's edge, instead pushing forth with an expression of sheer determination on his face. He shoved snow-laden pine branches out of his way with a violent nature that surprised me, spraying snow through the air as they rebounded back at me. I ducked each one as their flying snow saturated my hair.

He'd only made it a few feet into the woods when I reached for him, gripping the back of his shirt in my fist. Though my restraint brought him up short, he continued to fight my hold, tugging against it, which horrified me.

He'd _never_ resisted me before. _Ever_.

"Beau," I whispered brokenly, "You can't go after her. Not now. It's almost time, and getting yourself lost won't help anyone."

He didn't seem to hear my words, tugging again, one foot sliding against the melting, slick snow.

"I'm so sorry," I told him, anguished, "I see now that I was wrong to say the words at this time."

He shook his head, still pulling. He tugged against my resistance so hard that his shirt tore, and he stumbled a few feet before regaining his balance. He glanced back at me once, his eyes wild and unrecognizable, and then he turned back toward the trees.

I saw the muscles in his legs jerk as he prepared to run— _run_ from me—and I reacted instinctively. Before he could take one step, I had my arms locked around his waist.

" _Stop_ ," I begged him, my breath hitching in my throat as I pressed my forehead into his back. "Please—you can't go now. It's too dangerous."

"I have to—" he croaked, " _I_ did this… I have to make things right—I have to—I should have…" He trailed off, coughing out one morose sob, and the sound broke me. _I'd_ done this. I'd broken him.

What had I done? Would he ever forgive me for this? Had I ruined everything?

"Let me see if I can bring her back, so that you can talk to her," I offered, "Maybe that would help. There's still a little time."

Would he choose her, now? Was this his way of drawing the line in the sand? Had I gone too far?

Beau nodded, wordless.

"Okay," I whispered, heartbroken, "Stay by the tent. I'll be back."

I shot through the trees like a bullet, finding Julie's scent easily. And as I ran, my splintered mind fragmented even further as I was forced to realize the gravity of the situation. Not only had I done something I didn't know would ever be forgiven; now I was intent on running off and bringing back the object of animosity, disdain and the competition I so feared.

I realized, as I followed the winding stench of her trail through the trees, that I no longer hated Julie Black. It was an impossible thing to do now, knowing how deeply she undeniably cared for Beau. Having seen so much of her inner thought processes, their memories, their shared bonds, I couldn't deny that truth, no matter how much I would have liked to.

And I couldn't deny the other truth, the truth I'd been fighting so hard against for so long—Beau loved her, too. More than _any_ of us had realized it. More than I, and he, had wanted to admit to.

In a very unbiased way, I could see the lengths she'd gone to, to be with him. She'd been there for him in his darkest times, had picked him up off the ground, shaken the rust from his stagnant heart and mind, and little by little, had pieced him back together. She'd defied the impassible embargo of her pack, had gone against every rule and long-standing tribal regulation to be with him.

She'd saved his life not once, not twice, but _countless_ times.

And now, _another_ of those times, she was still ready, despite her heartache, to fight alongside her proclaimed enemies, the family of her one declared nemesis and one competition for the heart of the boy she loved, to save his life once more.

It wasn't _fair_. None of this was fair.

Julie deserved happiness. She deserved love and friendship and joy. She _deserved_ Beau. She had done nothing wrong in her short, young life. She'd strived to protect her clan and her village, to stand up for her friends and family in their times of need. She'd been pulled, unwillingly, into the fate of her ancestors. She'd been forced into a life of danger, of confusion and fear.

And through it all, she'd found love in the same boy I had.

Could I say the same? That I was an innocent, young girl who had done nothing wrong in my life?

I couldn't. I was beyond sinner, beyond monster, beyond animal… And I did not deserve the love that Beau unfalteringly showed me, time and time again.

Julie's mind was a whirlwind of incomprehensible thought, pain and torment. If I had focused, I could have made out the words of her contemplations, but I wasn't sure I wanted to. She heard my approach, but she made no move to defend herself.

"Julie," I said softly, and she turned her baleful, black glare on me.

 _What are you doing here?_

I stayed several feet back, not knowing when her apathy would turn to rage, especially when it was _me_ she was staring at.

"I know I'm the last person you want to see right now—"

 _No shit._

"But I want you to listen to me."

 _The hell I have to listen to a word you say!_ she seethed, _Why should I consider a syllable you speak? You_ _ **knew**_ _I was listening. You_ _ **knew**_ _what you were doing. You play_ _ **dirty tricks,**_ _leech, and I_ _ **hate**_ _you!_

"I will not argue that. What I did was unforgivable, and I know you don't believe me, Julie, but I _am_ sorry."

 _Yeah, whatever._

"I'm truly apologetic for the plight all of this has caused you. You don't deserve it."

 _I sure don't._

"Beau was very upset when you left."

Her ears twitched at the sound of his name.

"He wanted to follow after you; I think there's something he needs to say to you."

 _I can't go back there._ She bowed her enormous head. _He broke my heart once—what should I go back there for? So he can just confirm everything, shatter me all over again? The hell with that._ She thought the words, but I thought her underlying devotion would have been saying something different.

At any rate, I could not discern where her emotions lay.

"He's inconsolable," I pushed, wondering why I was doing this. Was I truly a martyr? Did I want him to choose her over me? "I don't think anybody will be able to calm him down right now but you… He's very angry with himself. I believe he would merely like to apologize, but I fear…"

This got her attention. _Fear… What?_

I shrugged, unable to meet her eyes. "There may be more to it than that."

 _More to it…?_ she wondered. _Is it possible…?_

I shook my head, cutting her off. "Please," I insisted, almost impatiently, "I've left him waiting, and I don't know that his patience will hold out. I don't want him endangering himself, trying to follow us down the mountain."

Bolstered by the hope of _more than that_ , Julie hauled herself to her feet.

 _Fine,_ she thought, _I'm coming._

I turned my back on her and began to head back up the mountain, toward camp. Julie stayed on my heels the entire way, her thoughts swirling with new renewal, new hope.

I couldn't bear to listen to her contemplations. I knew, once we reached camp, that I would be forced to leave the two of them alone, _again_. I had hoped yesterday would be the last time I would ever be forced to do such a thing, but I could see now that I'd been wrong.

As we drew closer to the small, rocky clearing, I slowed my pace, catching sight of Beau's pacing figure through the trees. He'd shed some of his layers, and the sun shone brightly on his hair, his skin.

Sarah was immediately on alert, and I was grateful for that—grateful for her vigilance.

Behind me, Julie phased back into her human form and dressed quickly.

"Cool it, Sarah," she called, striding forward, "It's just us."

Sarah approached me before I could go to Beau, who visibly relaxed at the sound of Julie's voice.

 _So, uh, Sam has a message for you. She said your psychic brother saw something about the Volturi? That they've decided to intervene or something? He didn't know exactly_ _ **when**_ _, but he wanted you to know. He said he can't tell exactly what they want, but he thinks they're just focused on the newborns, but he can't be sure… And I think that's it. Got it?_

"Yes," I told her, and sighed. "Somehow, I'm not surprised. It will be very close… Could you please have Samantha ask Archie to narrow down the timing with more exactitude?"

Sarah nodded once. _Sure thing._

I turned my attention back to Beau, wariness vibrating uncomfortably in my chest when I saw he wasn't watching me, but his eyes were fixed on Julie, her face turned away, toward the forest.

She struggled to keep ahold of her expectations, knowing he could say the words that would hurt her, just as much as he could say the ones that would heal her.

"Beau," I said, going to his side quickly and taking his hand. He glanced down at me, his eyes glassy again. His lips were turned down in a frown, and that familiar v-shaped crease was apparent between his brows. "It seems there's been a little bit of a complication. Sarah and I are going to try to straighten it out together, but I won't go far… That being said, I won't be listening. I'll be sure to give you your privacy, no matter what you…" I had to trail off, for fear of my voice fracturing, and I glanced away, struggling to recompose myself.

"Okay," Beau said, and he squeezed my fingers. "Hurry back."

I stared up at him for two long seconds, memorizing his features despite the troubled mask they were set in. I stretched up on my toes to brush my lips gently against his. It was selfish of me, but if this was the last time we would be together like this, I wanted a kiss to remember him by.

Then I turned and ran for the trees, and I did not stop until I was far from Julie's mental range. Vaguely I could hear Sarah running behind me, struggling to keep up with my velocity.

 _Wait up!_ she called, but I couldn't stop. Not until I was sure I would be far enough away, not until I was sure there would be no chance I would overhear the conversation between Beau and Julie. I didn't want to hear it, any of it.

What would truly become of me if today was the day he chose Julie over me? Was this why he hadn't formally proposed yet? Had I misunderstood his true intentions? Had I underestimated where his devotion and loyalties laid for Julie Black? I thought back to the conversation we'd had last night, when Julie had asked what I would do if he _did_ choose her. Every word of what I'd said still stood true. I would watch from afar to ensure his safety, though every second of it would be torture for me—to watch them together…

The pure agony of this thought knocked my legs out from under me, and I crumbled to my knees in the bracken of the forest floor, gasping for breath in a way that dimly made me aware that I must be sobbing.

I loved him _so much_ —enough to let him go, if that was what he wanted. But it wouldn't hurt _me_ any less. I would do what it took to make Beau happy, no matter the cost to my own welfare. I'd affirmed a long time ago that I would lay down my life for him. That was easy. Somehow, laying down my heart, laying it _aside_ , seemed more difficult.

I realized that I was not alone. Massive paws shifted through the pine needles and loose twigs behind me.

 _Hey… Hey, Edythe?_ Sarah thought tentatively. _You okay?_

I stared vacantly at the forest that stretched in front of me, trying not to think about what must be occurring back at camp.

Could I endure losing him one more time? Could my stone heart withstand such a heavy burden? I didn't know.

I tried to focus on the next likely occurrence: If Beau _didn't_ choose her, what would Julie do? What if she became volatile in the aftermath of his rejection? What if she phased right in the camp, much too close to him? What if she wouldn't take no for an answer, and hurt him in her attempts to push her case physically?

I thought about turning back for an instant before I remembered, despite the gravity of this situation, there were even _more_ pressing matters at hand. The Volturi had decided to come… And if we didn't have the situation handled and the wolves gone before they got here… Our fate, and the pack's, wasn't likely to be good.

Why had they come _now_? After all the catastrophic devastation that had already elapsed, why were they coming today? Perhaps it wasn't merely to put an end to the rebellious ways of the newborn army as much as it was to check if Beau's change had transpired yet. I wouldn't know for certain until I would be able to see exactly what Archie had seen.

This thought granted me the ability to push myself to my feet again.

I turned to Sarah. Her mind was whirling with confusion and too many questions to answer, mostly about the Volturi. I felt it better to just deal with the situation at hand, rather than to try and explain to her all the details.

"Can you have Samantha retrieve Archie, please?" My voice sounded hollow and devoid of emotion. Certainly I had attempted to push all personal matters aside in favor of dealing with what needed dealt with in these next few moments.

Halfway up the mountain behind me, my fate awaited me, but that importance was on hold for now in favor of the bigger threat.

 _Sure thing,_ Sarah complied, and then tipped her head back to let loose a howl into the wind. _Sam! Send the psychic this way!_

I heard the echoing tenor of Samantha's acquiescence, and then waited. I stared into the dark, chocolate eyes of the slim, sandy wolf in front of me and truly saw the greenness of her youth. Much of the wolves were far too young to be involved in something such as this…

Despite everything, Sarah had been nothing but hospitable, attempting to lay aside her own pack's prejudices in favor of her own formed conclusions.

I appreciated that more than words could say.

A second later, the pack mind flickered to life inside my head, and I focused gratefully on their clattering noise.

 _Is Jules_ _ **still**_ _up there? She better phase back soon—she's gonna miss it!_

 _Hey, Sarah—where's Jules? I thought she was on her way back._

 _She was… But then she went back to talk to Beau—it was… Important._ Sarah's eyes flickered to my face and then away.

Lee's mental groan was unmistakable. _That girl has_ _ **got**_ _to get her priorities straight,_ he grumbled.

 _Sarah, please go get Julie. We need her here, now. Before the battle begins. If she won't phase to hear that order, you need to go to her._

Sarah sighed, but could not ignore her Alpha's command. _Got it,_ she told Samantha, and then swiveled her huge head to look at me one more time.

 _I'll be back._

I nodded once, and then she turned away and launched herself back up the mountain.

 _Edythe?_ Archie thought, _Can you hear me?_

"Yes," I called. I could hear the protective hover of Jessamine's mental atmosphere at Archie's side, and knew she'd come as well.

 _We're not gonna come all the way up there, 'cause we can't go far from the clearing, but I wanted to talk to you myself._ He paused for just a fraction of a second, and then showed me the vision he'd seen of the Volturi approaching. It seemed Sulpicia had sent her most esteemed members of the guard: Jonathan, Fern, Demetrius… From the position of the sun in the sky, my brother pin-pointed their arrival just sixty two minutes from now.

 _We don't have a whole lot of time; we'll be cutting it close, but I_ _ **think**_ _we'll make it._ Even from a distance, his frustration was transparent.

"We'll be there as soon as the battle's finished," I called to him. "Good luck, Archie."

 _See ya soon._ The tone of his thoughts was cheerful, but I knew my brother well enough to sense the stress lingering underneath the silently spoken words. His mental voice flickered out of range, and I was left on my own.

The forest around me was quiet, all for the subtle sounds of wildlife and the shifting, molecular sounds of nature taking its course—the humming energy of growing vegetation, the elusive shift of elongating tree roots, the trickle of an underground stream.

One long, frozen moment later, Sarah's inward presence made itself known again. Four seconds after that, she jogged through the trees, her expression serious. Though she tried not to think about it, I immediately saw what she'd seen from the fringes of the site, and it struck my heart like a physical force.

 _Poor Edythe,_ Sarah thought as the images played out through her mind. The recalls were little more than still frames, so I could not ferret out the underlying motivations behind them, but from what I could tell, Julie had somehow convinced Beau to kiss her, because from the pictures in Sarah's head, she was met with no resistance whatsoever.

My heart sunk into despair.

Sarah regarded me with equal amounts of wariness and sympathy. _Don't do anything rash,_ she warned me.

I shook my head at her. "I won't," I promised.

Surprisingly, I felt no anger toward Julie Black—only the cold, numb shock one feels in the moments after betrayal. But to call this a betrayal seemed entirely unfair. All along, I'd known he loved her… All along, since the moment I'd returned and discovered the depth of the connection the two had formed, I had known this was a possibility.

However, a small part of my being clung to the hope that I'd somehow misinterpreted the images—that the outcome wasn't as clear as the larger part of me suspected it might be.

Either way, as I felt the unearthly vibration in the air as Julie shifted back into her wolf form and her raucous, celebratory thoughts echoed through Sarah's head, I knew Beau would be alone now.

I turned back toward camp, where my fate loomed ahead of me.

.

 **A/N:** Note: I changed Didyme's name to Demetrius, as I thought Didyme was too close to Marcus's deceased mate's name. I hope that doesn't instill too much confusion! When I can find the time, I'll make sure to go back and correct everything from Darkest Hour.

I'd love to know what you thought of this one!


	21. Triumph

**A/N:** Phew! Big one ahead, guys! This one was... Intense.

Also, happy Easter to any of you that celebrate! Usually, we have a big family get-together, but this year it's just us and the kids, so we're taking this weekend relatively easy. But I wanted to get this chapter posted, because I know I left you guys with a major cliff-hanger last time.

Can't believe how close we are to the end! Wowza!

 **.**

I had always suspected that Beau's feelings for Julie went much deeper than he'd outwardly showed—or had maybe even been aware of himself. But to know, without a shadow of a doubt, just where his emotions laid was excruciating.

Not for the first time, I wished for blissful ignorance, that I could somehow delete the preceding five minutes from my head entirely. Whether Beau chose to tell me what had happened between them or not could be up to him if that were the case… But it wasn't. Whether I liked it or not, I knew.

Sarah paced the perimeter of the site, her thoughts agitated and conflicted as Julie left her behind, running off to battle. Vaguely, I could hear the pack mind gearing up for the fight, but for now, I focused on the present.

Inside the tent, Beau's breath came shallowly. I hesitated for just a moment, bracing myself against the inevitable before I went to join him. He was huddled on the floor, his head bowed and his fingers interlocked behind his neck, the picture of crushing guilt.

Abruptly, compassion overwhelmed me. I resolved not to make things worse for him as I reached out to touch his hair. Immediately, he recoiled from my touch, and the action seared me through with the sting of refutation.

"Are you all right?" I whispered.

He didn't answer, and without access to his face, his eyes, I truly was at a loss. I had no way of knowing what he was thinking, what was going through his mind, what might be coming.

As much as I didn't want to do it, I opened my mind to Julie's thoughts, desperate for some insight.

 _He kissed me!_ she exalted, _He actually kissed me! And held me in his arms and everything! He wanted me to stay, wanted me with him… So perfect, so soft, so warm and solid…_

 _Ugh—I think I'm gonna barf._

 _Seriously, could you attempt to keep that to yourself?_

 _Waaayy too much information, girl._

 _Quit obsessing,_ Lee spat, _From what I can see, the only reason he kissed you back was because you guilt-tripped him into it._

 _So what?_ Julie goaded, undeterred, _He_ _ **kissed me back**_ _, didn't he?_

 _It's not like he declared his love for you or anything… Jeez. You're_ _ **way**_ _overthinking this…_

I watched in Sarah's head as Julie replayed the scene again and again in her mind. Unfortunately for her, her prejudiced view rendered her unable to see past the sickly romanticism of it all. Fortunately for the rest of us, we were able to see beyond her ludicrous deliberations.

 _I would have kissed you too if it prevented you from running off and getting yourself killed like some sort of idiot hero._

 _Sorry, girl. I have to agree with Lee… Doesn't mean he's gonna ask you to do it again. I think it was a one-time deal kind of thing._

 _Whatever, you guys._

"Oh," I breathed, comprehending at once. Relief, a cleansing sort of elixir, washed all the bitterness and heartbreak away from my heart, and at once, I felt light again. "I understand." A soft laugh escaped me, as buoyant as I was with liberation. "I never thought I'd see the day where Julie Black bested me in the area of sly tactic and strategy… But that day has indisputably come.

"I don't blame you for falling for her cunning skills, Beau. Of course, I promised her the next time she kissed you without your direct consent I would cause her grievous bodily harm, but from the way things played out for her, I think she somehow found her away around that particular embargo…" I tried not to flinch as I watched the kiss replay in Julie's mind—yes, he'd kissed her back, but she had been the one to initiate it; she had been the one to play every dirty card there was…

Finally, Beau lifted his head to look at me, his eyes fractured and filled to the brim with pain and remorse. "Falling for it?" he repeated colorlessly.

I reached forward to brush my fingers across his cheek, softened by his obvious pain and mortification. "Beau, she would never have done it…" Suddenly, the future seemed very clear. Beau had only kissed her to stop her from—what he thought—was an act of irate suicide. To protect her. My noble, self-effacing Beau… I felt practically lightheaded. "Julie Black is a lot of things, but suicidal is not one of them. Do you really believe she would have gone out in a blaze of glory just to clear the way for me—her one true enemy?"

He didn't answer, but from the discomforted embarrassment on his face, it was clear he _had_ believed her.

"Oh, Beau," I said tenderly, unable to keep myself from laughing softly again, "You're so inept at lying, you'll believe anyone who has the least bit of aptitude for it… Not that there wasn't _any_ truth to what she said… She was truly made desperate by the pain inflicted when she overheard our conversation… But she never would have killed herself over it."

Beau didn't seem convinced. He shook his head, his gaze falling away from mine once more. "How can you… How can you sit there?" he whispered, "Like I'm not the worst excuse for a human being ever, on the planet? How are you not totally and unforgivably angry with me?"

"Not the worst excuse ever," I argued softly, stroking his hair, "Not even close. But human, yes. You're _only_ human, Beau…"

" _Only_ humans don't betray the girl they want to spend the rest of forever with," he spat with such vitriol it hurt, knowing that poison was directed at himself. "I thought I was… I was _better_ than this. Constant, to start with... But I betrayed you, Edythe, I betrayed you, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to…"

"Shh, shh," I buried my face in his hair, pressing my lips to his scalp. Maybe because I could see now that nothing would keep us apart ever again, it made it easy to say the next words. "You love her."

He lifted his head, desperate and anguished eyes locking on mine. "I love you so much more," he whispered huskily.

"I know that," I assured him tenderly. "But I have to say, the trajectory of the course between you two hasn't surprised me… In fact, it's almost to be expected." He only stared at me unconvinced, and I did the best I could to explain. "When I left you, Beau, I left you with a cracked sternum, an open chest-wound, bleeding and wounded… And Julie… Julie was there to help piece you back together again. Such a thing was bound to leave its mark—on both of you. As much as I'd like to blame her, I cannot place the culpability on either of you for something I practically forced into being… I see now that you couldn't have stopped this, Beau, no matter how valiantly you tried. I _understand_ , Beau, so please don't torture yourself with needless shame and compunction."

Perhaps he felt so horribly because all along he'd been trying to force himself to love only one of us. All along, I'd known he'd loved us both—the details of his feelings had been the only thing I'd been unsure of. And now that I knew where his devotion truly laid… I couldn't have been more liberated. He was committed to _me_ , he'd chosen this life, my family, to spend eternity by my side… How could I be angry over the burdens he'd had to sort through to realize such an enormous thing?

I was ready to try and explain this part of things when Sarah's mental voice interrupted my reveries. _Edythe, get ready—battle's starting in about five minutes, Archie says._

I felt my body reflexively stiffen with anticipation. This was it. And suddenly, I was awash with guilt. For a moment, I'd forgotten that my family was preparing to risk their lives for the boy I loved, in the clearing below us. How could I be so self-centered to forget?

Beau recognized my distraction. "Is it getting close?"

"Just a few more minutes now," I confirmed. Just in time to say one more thing. I took a deep breath, bracing myself against the pain of my coming words. If there was ever a last opportunity to give him an out, it was now… I didn't know this battle would change us. I didn't know what would elapse after this was all over. But I did know one thing. "I want you to be happy, Beau," I began, "Truly happy. It's unforgivable to try and make you choose between us; I can see how much pain it's caused you, how it's practically torn you in two. I want you to know I'm yours, completely and irrevocably. You have every piece of my heart; it's yours entirely, and you can have as much as it as you want—or as little of it… It's up to you. I don't want any past debts or current obligations holding you back from making the choice your heart truly desires."

There. I'd said it.

I watched him carefully, waiting for his response.

To my shock, blue fire flared in his eyes. "Don't start that now," he nearly growled.

"Start what?"

"All that noble, self-sacrificing crap," he explained.

I stared at him, confused. I needed to make him see the verity behind my statement—that it wasn't simply to placate him, but something I should have given him a long time ago. "I'm not simply attempting to mollify you, Beau—I mean every word."

Beau sighed. "I _know_ you do," he said, "That's what makes it worse… What happened to fighting back?"

"I don't… How do I do such a thing?" Of course, that had been my intention at first, but how could I continue with that crusade now, knowing how much it would hurt him? He didn't deserve selfishness and greed—he deserved abnegation, kindness and acceptance. He deserved to make a choice between the two women who loved him, at once fiercely, and yet so differently.

Surprising me, Beau rose up on his knees and took my face between his hands. At once, his soft and pliant lips were pressed against mine, hurried and passionate. He kissed me fiercely and without hesitation for a moment, and then he pulled back. His eyes, fixed unerringly on mine, were as intense as I'd ever seen them, luculent and at once opaque with the strength of his emotion.

"I chose you," he whispered, "I _choose_ you, and I have no intention of going back on my word. I don't have the ring right now, but you'd be damned certain I'd be on one knee right now to prove it to you if I did."

"Beau…"

"I will _never_ betray you _ever_ again. That is one vow I can make for certain. Among others, but those'll come later."

I was at once overcome with the unprecedented joy that filled every cavity of my body in response to his words. I pressed my lips once, very softly, to his. "If that will make you happy."

He seemed about to say something else, but was abruptly interrupted by Sarah's forlorn cry for her sisters outside the tent.

 _I want to_ _ **be**_ _there!_ she lamented, _Don't make me stay here!_

Against my side, Beau stiffened, and I heard his heart begin to race. "What's happening?" he demanded.

I took his hand in mine, stroking his knuckles soothingly. "Don't worry; Sarah's just upset that she can't be with her sisters. It's almost begun, and she's… Anxious." The same emotion flashed across his face, now. "We have skill, training and surprise on our side, Beau," I assured him, "If I didn't believe we had the upper-hand with all of my heart, I would be down there now—and you'd be here, chained to a tree or something," I tried to joke.

He didn't laugh.

 _They're getting close… Can you smell that? Ugh—they stink so bad!_ Quinn complained.

 _Worse than the Cullens,_ Emma agreed.

Sarah paced along the boundaries of our campsite, whimpering unhappily. _Ugh! I wanna be down there so bad! Why do I have to be stuck here like a chained dog when all the_ _**good stuff**_ _is happening down there without me?!_ _ **So**_ _unfair!_

Beau's eyes flickered toward the tent wall where he could hear Sarah complaining, and then I felt them back on my face—though my awareness of my current surroundings was only vague. I was watching with Sarah as the newborns drew closer to the clearing.

I felt his warm hands envelope mine. "Tell me what's happening," he requested, "Tell me everything."

I watched as the group of savage beings streaked through the forest, snarling, vicious and unstoppable—some felling trees that got in their way, others shoving at the members of their own army. It was chaos—total and absolute chaos.

Through the thoughts of the wolves, I could hear a vague female voice shouting orders.

 _"Kris, go around! Move around! Split off! Kris, Jensen!_ _ **Break off**_ _! Go around!"_

 _"This way!"_ another voice echoed through the wolves' ears, male this time, _"Faster! We'll beat them around and get to him first! C'mon!"_

"The newborns are coming to the end of the trail," I reported to Beau, "Jessamine's genius plan worked like a charm. They've caught the scent of the ones in the meadow, so they're splitting into two groups now, just as Archie said they would… Samantha's taking us around to head off the ambush party."

When I felt the increase of Beau's pulse point in his wrist, where our hands were interlocked, I realized his respiration had stopped. "Breathe, Beau," I reminded him.

"Right." He drew a ragged inhalation.

I refocused on the pack mind, awed by their ability to work in unison, all of their thoughts oriented around one singular goal. They worked in togetherness as they awaited the approaching newborns, concentrated, prepared. Their ears focused in on the approaching group, instinct blurring out some of their coherent thought as the army's footfalls grew closer.

There was a screeching, tearing sound in the distance, and I knew some of the fighting had begun prematurely, amongst the newborns.

 _"Rochelle!"_ that familiar female voice from before shouted, her voice even fainter now than before.

The first group reached my family in the clearing before the wolves' half, and the familiar medley of shrieking cracks and metallic shredding reached the wolves' ears as the battle begun. I wished I could see what was happening, but was grateful, regardless, for the connection I had as it was.

"The first group is in the clearing," I told Beau, "We can hear the fighting."

And then, suddenly, a joyful reprieve, I heard Eleanor's voice rise above it all. _"Come on! Is that all you've_ _ **got**_ _, suckers?!"_

I laughed once. "We can hear Eleanor—she seems to be enjoying herself."

The new arrivals were making their way closer to the wolves, and I listened as they crouched, ready, in the ferns.

 _Come on, come on, come on…_

 _I can see them—just through those trees._

 _Get ready, everyone…_

 _Let me at 'em, let me at 'em…_

"The second group is preparing—they're not paying attention, and they haven't heard us yet."

I felt my jaw clench when their vicious, hissing voices became intelligible.

 _"He's here—somewhere."_

 _"So close! I_ _ **want**_ _him."_

 _"He's_ _ **mine**_ _!"_

 _"Not if I get him first!"_

 _"Don't let him get away!"_

A low hiss slid between my teeth as I listened to the newborns practically salivate over the false trail Beau had laid.

"What?" Beau wheezed.

"They're talking about you. They've been ordered not to let you escape…"

 _"Quick, over here! I think—"_

Before any of the other vampires could react, Lee launched himself across a small opening, jaws closing around the shoulder of the leader of the pack. In the next instant, he'd torn her head clean from her neck. A thrill of confidence went through me. This had been just what we'd been expecting—perfect!

"Nice! Lee is very fast," I informed Beau. "One of the newborns caught our scent, and Lee took him out before he could even think about reacting; Sam's helping him finish her off… Paula and Julie got another one, but the others are defending now…"

Sarah continued to pace agitatedly, whimpering every once in awhile as she watched the fight play out behind her eyes.

Through the pack's vision, I could see the stunned terror in the newborns' eyes as they crouched, ready to take on the giant dogs they'd never even known existed.

"They don't know what to make of us. Both sides are feinting…" I watched as a few of the newborns bunched together in pairs and groups, catching on quickly. "No," I coached, despite my lack of proximity to the action, "You have to keep them separated; don't let them protect each others' backs!"

Outside the tent, Sarah whinnied, surprisingly relaying my words to the rest of the pack. I hadn't expected that, but I was grateful for it.

"Yes," I breathed, relieved, "Drive them that way—toward the clearing."

 _Wait—what was that?_

Sarah's inquiry broke my concentration, and the sounds of the duel in the clearing flickered from my mind. Now, I watched the slim, sandy wolf glance warily around herself. Her ears perked, straining to make sense of whatever she'd heard approaching in the forest.

Surely, her heightened senses had picked up the trail of a deer, a bear, or another woodland creature. There was nobody else out here—it was just us; I had made sure of that.

However, unwilling to take any chances, I prodded the surrounding area for any thoughts.

 _You seriously thought you could hide him from me? I thought you knew me better than that, Edythe…_

The malicious, sneering mental voice froze me to the spot.

No… No… _No, it_ _ **couldn't**_ _be!_

Sarah's nostrils flared, her ears twitching as two pairs of footsteps drew closer, whisper soft, and then we caught their scent on the carrying breeze.

I recognized them both immediately—one was the distinctly female cloy from Beau's bedroom. And the other… The other scent I would have known anywhere. I'd memorized his fragrance dozens of times over, to ensure I had it right. It was the fragrance I'd tracked for weeks on end... The scent I would _never_ forget…

Victor.

Too close to escape, too close to do anything but fight. In less than two seconds, I was on my feet, hauling Beau up by the waist beside me, fingers fisted in the back of his shirt, and I'd shredded the canvas of the tent with my other hand.

The sunlight refracted off my skin, and Beau blinked, dazed, in the sudden brightness.

 _They're not yours,_ Sarah recognized, immediately at my side, _Did two of them get away?_

There wasn't enough time to explain the very long story; there wasn't enough time to do _anything_. There wasn't the time or the means to retrieve aid, and if Sarah stayed, she might die, too…

"Sarah, go!" I pleaded before I could think of sacrificing this poor girl's life. I would not sentence her to death. She may have stood at a strategical advantage to the newborns, but there was no way she'd beat Victor in a fight. " _Go_!"

Sarah wheeled for the forest shadows, her mind an almost incomprehensible blur of options—all of them impossible.

 _Find help… Find_ _ **someone**_ _…_ And just before I turned my attention fully to the approaching nomad I'd wanted dead for _so long_ , she thought, _Element of surprise!_

I couldn't ruminate on Sarah's juvenile strategies for too long, because Victor and his companion were drawing closer now.

He was keeping his thoughts carefully guarded, sure not to give too much away. I could see enough that he would be approaching from the south side of the mountain, and reoriented Beau so that his back was pressed against the sheer cliff wall across camp from where we'd just been standing. At least we had _that_ advantage. Victor wouldn't be approaching us from behind.

Unbreathing, I stood stiffly in front of Beau, staring into the shadows, waiting for Victor to approach.

 _Finally,_ _ **finally**_ **,** Victor was eagerly thinking, _Finally, I'll get my revenge._ For a moment, every torture he planned to inflict on Beau flashed through his mind, and my lips pulled viciously away from my teeth.

He would not _touch_ __him!

" _Are we close?"_ the female asked.

"Quiet!" Victor hissed abruptly, knowing I'd be able to hear them.

He'd had more practice hiding his thoughts from me, but this new one, this female companion, had not had as much practice. Had he told her of my abilities? How much in the know _was_ this newborn he'd created?

I watched the events of the last few days play out in her mind—the army she'd trained, the choices she'd made, the brunt she'd taken for the nomad who had never considered her as anything but a pawn, a general in his army, a shield to hide behind.

It surprised me to learn that she was troubled by the newborns' execution. I could see the point in Victor hiding the eventuality of their demise from the army, but from his own general? What was the point?

I could sense her confusion, even now, but her underlying loyalty to Victor won out, and she pushed past the instinctive _wrong_ ness in the back of her mind. He truly had her convinced that he cared for her as something more than the pet he was using her as, and I knew this could come in handy for me. The bloodbath behind her had puzzled her, even elicited pity for those she'd helped create and train, but she would stay by Victor's side, no matter what—maybe even to the point of her own undoing.

Behind me, Beau's tremulous, anxious breaths formed a word: "Who?"

"Victor. And he's not alone. He was on his way in to watch the newborns lose—it was never his intention to fight with them—but he caught my scent and decided to follow its trail up the mountain at the last minute. He guessed I'd be where you were, and he was right, of course."

Beau's heart was racing, and I could smell the adrenaline exuding from his pores. Hearing Victor's approach toward camp, I reversed two feet closer to Beau.

I could see the coward's plan as he fell back. The girl glanced back at him, confused, but he didn't meet her questioning stare. He merely gestured ahead toward the break in the trees, where we waited.

Rianne stepped into the open space of our camp. She was tall, blonde and pale, and her crimson eyes glowed—not as bright as a months-old vampire's would, but she couldn't have been more than a year old.

I saw the intention for what it was immediately—Victor was sending the pawn in first in hopes that she would distract me long enough to leave a space large enough for him to get to Beau.

He stepped into the clearing, a few feet to the right and behind Rianne, his obsidian eyes fixed only on Beau's face. His thoughts no longer veiled, I could see how long he'd been waiting for his plan to come to fruition.

 _I'm so close to getting what I want,_ he exalted maliciously, picturing the gruesome murder he planned to put Beau through.

I bared my teeth at him, an expression he didn't see because he was so entirely focused on the love of my life.

The tension rolled off of him in palpable waves, though he wasn't concerned—merely anxious, anticipating the end. There was no doubt in his mind that he would get what he wanted now.

Unceremoniously, he jerked his chin at me, urging Rianne forward.

She knew enough of my talent to be wary of me, and though she was as loyal as one could get to Victor, she hesitated.

 _I don't know,_ she thought haltingly, _This isn't… It's not what I expected… She's… Not how I thought she'd be… Her face is… Kind, somehow—soft… But…_

"Rianne," I said softly, and she halted on the balls of her feet.

 _How does she…?_

"He's lying to you, Rianne," I pleaded. I knew enough about the idea of her second life's upbringing that guilt-tripping would have no effect on her. The only tool in my arsenal I was aware of was pitting Victor's own lies against her, and hoping it would be enough. "Please, listen to me. He's lying to you just as he lied to all the others being slaughtered in the clearing, now. You know he was lying to them, he had _you_ lie to them. You knew the entire time… Is it so difficult to fathom that he's lied to you, too?"

Confusion swept across her young features. _How…? No. That can't be true… She's wrong. He_ _ **loves**_ _me. He told me he loves me, that we'd have a life together after this was all over…_

 _Corral her this way,_ Sarah urged from the woods, her gaze fixed square between the shoulder blades of the young soldier. I should have known she hadn't left, and I resigned myself now to the inevitability of her stand. There was no other choice.

I took advantage of Rianne's distraction, shifting two inches to the right. Automatically, barely thinking about it, she matched my movement, putting herself that much closer to the werewolf hiding in the woods.

"He doesn't love you, Rianne—he never did. He had a mate for over two centuries; her name was Joss, and this entire time, he's been using you as a tool, in order to get revenge for her death."

 _What?_ Rianne though, thrown, her skittish glance flickering back to Victor's face. _He never told me about that… Why wouldn't he tell me that?_

 _Shut your little mouth!_ Victor snarled at me, but his evil glare was still focused on Beau's face.

 _If it was so important to him…_ Rianne was still wondering, _Why wouldn't he trust me enough to tell me about her?_

"Rianne?" I called softly, pulling her attention back my way. "He knows I'll kill you, Rianne. He doesn't care what happens to you—in fact, he'd rather I kill you so he doesn't have to keep up the pretense anymore."

It was quick, just a flash, but a hint of doubt flickered through her mind. She couldn't deny it; there was too much evidence, too many moments of hesitation, too many instances where she'd witnessed the vacancy in his eyes, had felt somehow distanced while he held her in his arms.

"You've suspected that all along, haven't you? You've seen the disinclination in his eyes, suspected a false note in his promises. You were right to feel doubtful. You were right to wonder if your trust was misplaced. He never wanted you, he never loved you. Every embrace, every kiss, every touch was a falsehood, Rianne. Every one."

 _A little closer,_ Sarah urged.

Knowing she was ready to hurl herself at Rianne, I risked a shuffling step toward the girl, away from Beau. Victor's eyes were wide and focused on the increased space between us, not missing a beat. As badly as he would have liked to lurch forward to grab Beau around the throat, he also wanted to ensure a safe distance from me.

 _Yes,_ he hissed, _Yes! Just a few more inches, and there's my in!_

He didn't suspect I had backup waiting in the wings, and neither did Rianne. Unknowingly, I herded her a few steps closer to Sarah.

 _No… No, no, no… It can't be true…_ Rianne thought in denial as her head spun.

"There are other ways to live than this, Rianne," I said to her, knowing she'd done nothing to deserve this life. She was only living the way she'd been taught by Victor, and with time, I was sure she could learn to live more compassionately. "You don't have to die. It's not all mendacities and feasting; you could turn your back right now. Don't sacrifice yourself for _his_ agenda, Rianne."

I slid another six inches forward, a foot of space between me and Beau now, tempting Victor with the space I'd created. Knowing Sarah was waiting for her opportunity had me confident I could turn on him as soon as Rianne was otherwise taken care of, and I wanted him close enough that he wouldn't be able to escape my grasp again.

Rianne repositioned herself once more, not one hundred percent focused, and compensating a little too much. Little did she know, she was practically sitting in the mouth of the beast…

"Last chance, Rianne," I whispered, wishing she'd change her mind, but seeing that she most likely wouldn't. She would subject herself to death for this man's madness… It was heartbreaking.

She glanced toward Victor, conflicted. _Vic?_

"I told you about their mind tricks, Ree," he said to her, but his eyes were only full of hateful vengeance, the mask he'd worn for her already melting away, "She's lying. You know I love you."

Rianne didn't know what to think anymore. It was too much for her already battered and fractured mind. In that instant, as her eyes went blank with numbness, I saw her course lay out in her mind. Her crimson gaze locked on me.

 _I promised him to the end. I promised I'd lay my life down for him._

Her calves tensed as she prepared to leap at me. The hesitation drained from her eyes, and in the moment before I signaled Sarah to attack, her instincts took over. And then the young wolf leaped from the inky shadows, a monster, a thing of nightmares, razor-sharp teeth bared, throaty growl ripping through the still morning air.

Victor roared with surprised fury—his plan had been thwarted—as Sarah slammed Rianne into the dirt ground. Shale flew into the air around them as Sarah's jaws clenched around the girl's clavicle, tearing her arm from her shoulder.

Knowing Sarah had Rianne well under control now, I shifted between Victor and Beau until the nomad's rabid, obsidian eyes focused on me again. They were filled to the brim with black, hellish fire, his thoughts a swirling torrent of rage and incredulity.

"No," he snarled, and I could hear his mind lapsing into familiar territory—he was thinking more about evasion now than finishing the plan he'd set out to conquer. He'd never planned on needing to fight me; he'd never planned on having to do anything but kill the boy I protected.

Knowing many of the torturous options for Beau's death were unattainable now, he narrowed down his options. The defensive rage built like an inferno inside my torso as the images flickered through Victor's mind—the snap of Beau's neck, the crunch of his skull, the shatter of his ribcage as he jammed his fist through it to rip his heart from his chest. Each vivid, gruesome image only enraged me further, and intensified my craving for Victor's demise.

Quickly, he realized he wasn't getting around me. It took him only a matter of seconds, every one of his advances met with my own defense, until he understood that I was reading his intentions in his mind and answering them with a defensive strategy of my own before he could make his own offensive move.

In my periphery, I could see Sarah and Rianne circling. I didn't dare take my eyes off the flaming-haired itinerant in front of me. Rianne lunged, roundhouse-kicking Sarah solidly in the shoulder. I heard the crack of the bone, and Sarah yelped.

 _I'm fine, I'm fine,_ she assured me, _Damn—that aches… It's already healing, I'm fine. I've got this._

I took her word for it, and reoriented my focus on Victor, knowing I could not spare one millisecond to be distracted. As I watched, his eyes flickered warily back and forth between the fight between his general and the werewolf, and myself and Beau. Though he spared no concern for the young woman he'd convinced he loved, I could see the fear surfacing in his eyes. He saw her at a disadvantage, he knew she was losing her own fight, and he was cautious of his own wellbeing, every fiber in his body straining toward the safety of the trees.

Caught between obsession and indecision, he skittered back and forth on the fringe of the campsite.

 _Have to get away… Have to protect myself… So much time… So long spent planning… Only chance… Wasteful… Have to_ _ **kill**_ _him… Have to get away…_

Victor's thoughts were jumbled, flopping back and forth between his inclination for escape and survival, and this long-awaited moment he'd worked so hard for.

If he escaped now, he didn't know how long it would be before he found his way back again. I knew he would never stop his hunt, he would never lay his vengeance aside. It was now or who-knows-when—five years, fifty?—and I knew that as well as Victor did.

"Don't go, Victor," I pleaded with him, hating to put such graphic images in his head, "You know you'll never get a chance like this again… Are you just going to abandon all the hard work you've done, all the time you've laid in wait, every effort you've expended…?" I knew, if I could convince him he had enough hope to stay, despite how painful it was for me to imagine Victor getting what he wanted, I would have him within my grasp.

He snarled with frustration at me, truly conflicted.

 _Attack, attack!_ he shouted at himself, trying with everything he was to force himself to charge, but his underlying affinity for evasion steadily pulled him back toward the trees.

"There's plenty of time to run later," I said to him, "You know that; you're well-versed with running, with hiding. It's why Joss stayed with you for so long, isn't it? A sure advantage for the deadly games she liked to play. It was too bad she left you last spring," I taunted her, "If you had been in Phoenix with her when I caught up to her, she might have survived her last dance with peril."

He pictured me destroying her, though I had forever regretted not tearing her head from her shoulders myself, and an irate roar tore itself from Victor's throat. He wanted nothing more than to hurl himself at me, to wrap his hands around my throat. His true target in all of this had always been me, it was _me_ he hated, _me_ he wanted to hurt, and he had known killing Beau would be the surest, cruelest way to do that. But he was too filled with rage to see his plan clearly now.

"I'm sorry to say all you ever were to her was a pawn in her sick game," I taunted him, happy to pin the target to my chest instead of Beau's. "She never cared for you, never really even loved you—she had about as much of a connection to you as you do to Rianne… I would know." Pointedly, I touched my fingertip to my temple.

Another enraged growl ripped between Victor's teeth, and he pitched forward, from the thin covering of trees, back toward me. Again, he launched himself into the fight, retaining the futile hope that he would gain the upper hand on me. Of course, he wouldn't. As much as he tried to act on instinct, he could not entirely block every intention from his thought processes, and I was there to wedge myself in front of him at every twist and turn.

Again, Sarah's cry of pain caught my attention. The tall female had Sarah backing toward the cliff wall, and her increased proximity to the target of Victor's murderous desires had his attention diverted for just a moment.

 _Mine!_ he thought, suddenly concerned that Rianne would grow close enough to take the prize of Beau's blood, and life, for herself. Of course, he'd had Rianne promise the others that this would be their prize, whoever found the boy first—all along knowing it had been a ruse employed to gain their cooperation. He never believed for a moment he'd have to 'defend his kill'.

 _Once she's done away with that thing, I'll have her distract the mind-reader… Then I'll have my fun._ But as he watched Sarah snap and rock forward, forcing Rianne to retreat a few steps, his fists clenched at his sides in frustration. _Pathetic!_

He watched as Sarah reoriented herself, barely a foot from me now. Her tail caressed my shoulders, and Victor balked. Involuntarily, the memory assaulted him: The time Joss had caught the unmatched stench of a similar beast, and had tracked him for fun… Her incorrigible taunting, and the spar that had ensued… Victor knew enough of the history to know that the animosity between our species was as firmly rooted as ever, and he could not comprehend the affability he was witnessing between us now.

 _Won't she turn on her? Hasn't she merely been fighting the threat in closest proximity to herself? The dog can't maintain any sort of loyalty toward her… Can she?_

"She won't betray me," I told him, grinning smugly as the element of surprise truly turned in our favor, as we had suspected it would, "Don't you see, Victor?" I crooned, using his distraction as an opportunity to slide imperceptibly closer to him. He didn't notice my advance. "You united us, provided us with a common goal."

 _Will the lies never cease? An alliance between mortal enemies? Impossible!_

"It's true," I insisted, knowing I'd successfully diverted his attention, "Is it so difficult to alter your perspective, Victor? Is she _truly_ so alike the monster Joss followed across Siberia?"

Victor's gaze flashed between us, back and forth. _It can't be… No…_ He shook his head, as if he could shake the sudden confusion from his thoughts. "Impossible!" he snarled.

"Is it?" I challenged, shifting another inch closer. "I don't think so… But I'll tell you what is. You'll never lay a finger on him, Victor."

Renewed, black fire flared in his irises as he focused on Beau again. His lips pulled back from his glistening teeth, and he lurched toward me again. _We'll see about that!_

He made several more attempts to evade my fortifications. When he realized dodging me wasn't going to work, he resorted to attacking me directly—worrying Rianne would win her own fight and get to Beau before he could.

He didn't want to have to kill me, and as our arms locked between us, clattering like stones, I saw that he strived to merely incapacitate me. He wanted me to see him kill Beau, and a vicious snarl ripped itself up my throat and out between my teeth as he pictured him, dead at his feet, his eyes wide and blank and staring, a ragged, fist-sized hole in his chest, and his precious heart cupped in Victor's malicious claw.

"You'll _never_ have him," I vowed as he grappled for some sort of grasp on me—but of course I could foresee his every move, and was there to intercept him, to coil out of his reach, at every turn.

It shouldn't have surprised me that it was almost as difficult for me to get a grip on him myself. Not only was he skilled at escaping, but also at evasion. His body was pure sinuous grace as he turned and swayed, reaching to grip my arm or my hair—anything to hold me off if just for a moment.

He wasn't expecting my sudden assault—I abruptly caught his wrist as he jabbed for me, and I bent it backwards, wrenching it almost clean from his arm before he twisted, snarling and spitting, away from me, trying to shake off the pain. He licked the wound, lining the joint with venom to repair it, and his thoughts strayed for a moment toward Rianne and Sarah's battle, reminded of her pain by way of his, and wondering if she was any closer to Beau yet.

For an instant, panic overtook my mind when I realized Sarah was lying on the ground, still and limp, in front of Beau. Then I focused on her thoughts, too cognizant for her to be dead or unconscious, and I realized she was merely tricking the female vampire that crouched a few yards away. She was waiting her for her to come closer so she could pounce and deliver the final blow.

Taking advantage of Victor's momentary diversion, I hurdled toward him again, gouging a chunk out of his shoulder. Before I could take the entirety of his arm, he skipped, once again, out of my reach—his mouth a twisted gash of fury and agony. With another outraged cry of ferocity, he reached for me, and the struggle began again.

I saw his intention before he clawed the air, and though my body was fast, the length of my hair had the ability to tie me up. In the same moment as Beau drew a sharp breath—as if able to see the battle despite the impossibility of it; his eyes never would have picked up on our rapid sparring—Victor's fingers curled through my hair. He yanked my head back, his other fingers manacled around my left wrist, a sudden sick thrill rising in his eyes.

 _To hell with forcing you to watch,_ he thought, _I'll kill you now._

And then, everything froze as the unmistakable scent of Beau's blood sliced through the air. For the smallest fraction of a second, Victor was so distracted that his hands released from my hair and my wrist, and he turned hungry, suspicious eyes on Beau.

 _She got him first—_ He began to think, before his gaze fell on Beau's pale, but determined, expression. Rianne had not found her way past Sarah yet. Her eyes were fixed on Beau's face as well, the fight momentarily forgotten.

Through Victor's eyes, I could see the dark bit of stone clutched in Beau's right hand, the pale bit of his arm exposed below the compacted sleeve of his sweater. And marring that precious, soft skin… Blood. He hadn't cut deep enough to hit any sort of artery or vein, it was just a nick, but it had been enough to distract the vampires before me.

I released a frustrated sigh—had harming himself _really_ been necessary?—and turned to focus back on the fight. I spun and threw out my leg, finding supreme purchase in the direct midst of Victor's torso, and launched him fifty feet back through the air. He crashed into the fir boughs high above our heads, felling two wide trunks, before he dropped back toward the ground.

In the preceding moments before he again touched the earth, I whirled back to where Rianne remained frozen, stunned by the audacity of Beau's stupid stunt, gripping her arm and yanking her, in one fluid motion, to flip over my shoulder. In the next instant, I had her pinned, facedown, in the earthy rock of the mountainside, and my knee fixed firmly in the space between her shoulder blades. I wrenched on her good arm with one, sure pull, and it separated from her body with a metallic squeal and a snap.

Rianne's piercing scream of anguish tore through the air around us as Victor again found his footing at the edge of the site. He watched, for a single instant, as Sarah leapt once more to her feet, headed straight for the still-wailing newborn. Then his gaze fixed on the open space between myself and Beau, realizing that this might be his last opportunity to succeed at his plan.

For one moment, his affinity for escape had completely faded from his mind—he was ruled too completely by the domineering fury and obstinacy now—and he threw himself forward.

I spun back toward him, releasing Rianne's severed arm with as much strength as I could muster. Just as I'd planned, the limb intercepted his velocity, throwing him into another tree, snapping the massive trunk clean in half.

Before he'd landed, I was in front of Beau again, poised and ready.

Five yards away, Sarah bit austerely through Rianne's other arm, leaving her entirely defenseless.

" _Victor!_ " she cried, panicked, swinging wild, desperate eyes toward the vampire she'd sacrificed so much for… But I couldn't spare her another thought now—and apparently neither could Victor. Sarah dragged her off into the forest as Rianne continued to shriek, the telltale sound of a disassembling vampire chorusing through the air.

Victor's eyes did no so much as flicker in her direction.

Understanding was steadily gaining on him. Not only was he alone now, he was outnumbered, too, the wolf far more skilled at fighting than he'd formerly thought. I wondered if Samantha was aware of how closely Sarah had been listening during our practices in the meadow. She'd picked up a fair amount of information and tactic, and to my surprise, the young girl made a very impressive fighter. I would have to report my impressions to the Alpha when all of this was over. Young Sarah Clearwater deserved far more credit than she'd been served.

 _I've failed…!_ Victor thought despairingly as he danced back a few steps toward the cover of the leaves, _It was all so carefully planned… How did this happen…?_ _ **Dammit**_ _! I have to go… Go. Run!_ He spared one consternated glance at Beau's face. _This isn't the end, weakling. I'll find you again one day, mark my words!_

The speed of his steps increased as he backed toward the woods, unwilling to take his eyes off me.

"Don't go, Victor," I murmured, "Stay—just awhile more…"

But the matchless instinct that told him to escape could not be disregarded. He abruptly turned his back on me— _ha_! Just the thing I'd been waiting for!—and shot for the trees.

The next seconds seemed to play out in slow motion as I bounded after him—not even exerting the entirety of my efforts to match his pace—and gripped his shoulder with one hand, and his hair with the other. In one smooth movement, I forced him to his knees and twisted him around to face me.

For an instant, our eyes met—and I could see the failure in his as strongly as I could feel the victory in my own. Then I yanked his head back by the hair, twisting in the same motion, and it was suddenly detached from his shoulders.

I watched his head topple to the ground, coming to rest at my feet as the remainder of his body slumped sideways into the dirt. As I separated his arms and legs from his torso stoically, intent on disassembling his body faster than he'd blindly be able to put it back together, I was wracked with profound relief and triumph.

Truly, it was over now, and whatever was to come could not dispute this one fact. My goal, for so long, had been to achieve this one thing, this one vampire's end, and after so much expended effort, searching, so many months of subterfuge and back-and-forth, it was finally, _finally_ over.

.

 **A/N:** … Intense, right? _Right_?

I actually had to take a few breaks, because it was just _that_ extreme for me. I made a, meh, _relative_ change there—having Beau actually draw blood when Bella never made it to that point. I wanted there to be an element of his involvement in the fight—did he save Edythe? Or would she have escaped that hold easily? We'll never know, but we _do_ know this: Beau distracted them long enough for Edythe and Sarah to gain the upper hand. I like that he might have played a contributing roll to that victory.

As always, it would be great to know what you guys thought of this chapter! I'm so excited to get to the proposal! Ah! I've written it out, and it's just… It's sweet, guys… But it's also pretty powerful. So, can't wait to share that with ya :)

See you in a few days! xo


	22. Aftermath

**A/N:** Happy Monday!

Thank you for all of your support on the last chapter, ladies and gents. I'm honestly so stunned by the general consensus coming from you guys. I appreciate the support so, so much, and for **sure** would never have made it this far without you guys. So thank you! Truly!

See you at the end!

 **Aftermath**

 **.**

The pillar of smoke elicited by the burning pyre of vampire parts was thick with perfume by the time I realized Beau had not moved a fraction of an inch.

My mind had been so oriented on gathering and burning every piece, on finishing this part of the deed, that it took me a moment to remember that Beau had watched me behead a partially-living creature not fifty yards from him. Or maybe I _had_ realized that instantaneously, and had only refused to regard that he may now be terrified of me.

In all the time I'd pictured myself dismantling Victor once and for all, Beau had been nowhere in sight. In all my imaginings, he'd been somewhere safe, maybe off with Archie, or possibly Julie. I had never intended for him to see this side of me, and I knew that this sort of trauma might change his perspective of me forever.

Slowly, I turned toward him, regarding his blank expression warily. His heart was pounding wildly, and almost all the color had drained from his face. A slow trickle of blood continued to ooze from his arm, but he didn't seem to notice. He'd cut deeper than I'd thought, the skin gaping around the wound.

I realized he would have yet _another_ scar now, because of me.

"Beau," I said softly, not wanting to frighten him, taking a few slow steps toward where he still stood with his back pressed against the rock wall of the mountain. "Can I come take care of your arm? It's still bleeding."

His wide eyes did not move from my face, and as I watched, I realized his hands were quivering. "I… You… It…"

I stopped a few feet from him, hoping the shock wouldn't grow to an acute point. Before he'd blinked once, I'd retrieved the sleeping bag from underneath the shredded tent, and the canteen of water. I draped the sleeping bag around his shoulders and held the canteen out toward him, careful to keep my distance. His eyes flickered down to my hand, and then back up to my face.

I kept my other hand slightly raised, fingers splayed, my facial expression open and careful. I wanted him to see that I wasn't a threat, that I wouldn't hurt him, that the fight had ended.

"It's over now, Beau," I assured him. It had been so long since I'd had to use my 'soft voice' consciously; it felt strange and foreign. "You don't need to be afraid anymore. I won't hurt you… It'll be alright. No one is going to hurt you now, Beau. It's over. I won't hurt you."

His blank eyes cleared then, and a shadow of confusion came over his face. I felt a spasm of relief as his shock seemed to fade, and then apprehension for the reaction that would surely come now.

"Why do you keep saying that?"

He took a stumbling step toward me, disregarding the canteen still, and I hesitated, maintaining the distance between us.

I was surprised to see concern soften his eyes then. "What's wrong?"

I felt suddenly perplexed. "Are you… Aren't you frightened of me?"

"Frightened?" he repeated woodenly, "Of you?" He repeated my question like it was the oddest thing he'd ever heard, and I continued to regard him cautiously. Though his expression was more animated now, his face was still pale, his heartbeat still rapid, and his hands continued to tremble. He took another step toward me, and then another, and then he tripped over something, catching himself against my shoulder.

In the same motion, he pulled me to his chest, burying his face in my hair, and I felt him shaking all over. His fingers tightened, clutching at my clothes as he held me close, with all the strength he could muster. His breaths burst rapidly against the crown of my head, his skin slick with sweat.

This reminded me of another time he'd been near hysterics—in a lavish waiting room in Volterra, Italy, and my attentions were momentarily pulled in the direction of the clearing.

 _It's over—it happened just as we thought it would. We won._

The wolves were rejoicing, some chanting tribal songs of celebration in their heads as they watched the newborns' remains burn. Through some of the wolves' eyes, I could see my family—well, whole, intact. Profound contentment washed through me at the knowledge of their safety, but I was quickly swept up in the tumultuous ocean of anxiety when I felt Beau tremble violently against me once more.

I lifted a hand to the back of his clammy neck, stroking the hair at the base of his skull with my fingertips. "Shh, it's okay now, Beau. You're safe, you're safe. I'm so sorry."

He didn't answer for a long moment, and desperately I wanted to pull back from where he had my face buried in his chest, so I could see his eyes, but he only clutched me closer, as if needing the support. Perhaps he did.

"I'm so sorry," was the only thing I could think of to say, repeating it again and again. I was sorry he'd had to see that. I was sorry he'd had to go through so much trauma. I was sorry he'd experienced so much fear and peril, and now we had to go to the clearing and face the Volturi… This was too much for him—entirely too much—and I wished there were some way we could postpone the aftermath of this all… But I knew it was inescapable.

I stroked his face, his shoulders, his hair—anywhere I could reach as his breathing eventually slowed, and the shaking gradually diminished.

And then he kissed my hair, and was pulling back to kiss my face—my eyelids, my cheeks, my nose, my lips. He clutched my face between his hands and then pulled back so he could look at me. His eyes were bright now, and much more steady than they'd been just a few minutes ago.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?"

I could only stare at him for a beat, baffled by his sudden shower of affection. "I am absolutely fine," I promised him, kissing the palm that caressed my cheek now.

It was truly, _truly_ over now.

"Sarah?" he inquired, his eyes flickering past my head for just half a second before returning my face.

I laughed softly as her overjoyed, gloating thoughts continued to ring through my head. "She's perfectly fine. Extremely delighted with herself, as a matter of fact."

"And—the others?"

"Everyone's fine, Beau," I guaranteed him, "Everything went precisely according to plan. In fact, they had the easy go of it." For a moment, the guilt attempted to overtake me. Despite my diligence, I should have known. I should have been aware of the lengths Victor would go to in order to get what he wanted. Hinging on that guilt came another wave of shame—for what I'd had to put Beau through, for the despicable measures I'd shown him I was capable of. "I'm so sorry," I felt the need to apologize again, "I never wanted you to see that—never intended for you to be anywhere near me when… I know I must have truly appeared a monster to you… You must have been horrified…" I shook my head, frustrated with myself. "If there had been any other way, Beau, please be assured that I would have grasped at the opportunity… But there _was_ no other way, and in fact, everything happened in the only way _possible_ …"

Surprising me, Beau snorted. I should have known he would exceed my expectations, once again. "Seriously? You thought _that_ would be my limit? Seeing you destroy my one living nightmare would send me running for the hills?" He snorted another laugh. "Right."

"I…" I hesitated, and then reached up to touch the corner of his eye, his viridian irises suddenly dancing with unexplained humor. "I don't understand… How can you… Simply dismiss the fact that I monstrously destroyed a living creature right in front of you…? How can you not be…"

"Entirely and deeply disgusted?"

"Well, yes."

He shrugged— _shrugged_!—his shoulders in a very casual way. "Honestly, I was more worried that you or Sarah were going to get hurt… and there was only so much I could do to help—"

"Yes," I interrupted sharply, remembering the ludicrous stunt he'd pulled. "Your little stunt with the rock. Beau, I find you to be incredibly intelligent and precocious for your age—but believe me when I say that was one of the most idiotic things you've ever done."

He had the decency to appear chastened. "I…" he said, color rising to his face. "I just… Sarah was…"

"I understand you wanted to help," I acknowledged, "I understand that you must have been confused, and concerned. But Sarah was simply feigning that she was hurt—it was nothing more than a guileful hoax!"

"What... But… She… She really wasn't hurt?"

"No."

"Oh."

We both paused for a moment, turning our eyes on the young pup who stood staring at the flickering flames, her thoughts smug.

 _Man—I'm_ _ **such**_ _a genius… But I have to say, that was_ _ **way**_ _too close… Some scary moments there, for sure… But it's all over now._

"Okay, yeah," Beau finally huffed, "I'm an idiot. I sure hope I'm a smarter vampire than human—more common sense, at least. No way I'm sitting on the sidelines next time."

I had to laugh at that. "Did you expect another war so soon?"

He smiled a little. "Knowing my luck… Who can be sure?"

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. I wasn't quite able to bring myself to feel as frustrated with his words as I ought to—I was too relieved that the danger had finally been left in our past… Well, most of it.

At the same time I seemed to remember it, Beau did, too.

"What were you saying before?" he suddenly demanded, "Something about 'a little bit of a complication'?"

I sighed, averting my gaze as I wrapped his injured arm with gauze from the first aid kit. Then my eyes drifted over to Sarah, who still stood by the fire, staring seriously into the flames.

 _You'll have to tell him sooner or later._

Yes, that was true. As I turned my gaze back to Beau's face, I saw the familiar determination there, and knew he wouldn't let it go until I divulged the information to him. Sarah was right.

"We only have a minute," I warned him, "So don't panic. I told you there's no reason to be afraid, and I meant it, so please—trust me?"

"Sure," he said immediately.

I deliberated for a moment, wondering how best to explain the situation in the clearing without frightening him, but was distracted a moment later by an unusually vivid image. My eyes were immediately locked on Sarah's, hers filled with trepidation, as we watched the scene play out together.

One of the newborns had somehow avoided capture, and had been hiding out somewhere. She had chosen now to reveal herself. Lee had caught sight of her, and had thought it his place to prove his strength and capability to the rest of the pack.

"What does he think he's _doing_?" I gasped in disbelief.

Sarah whimpered anxiously. _No, no! Stop!_ she begged her big brother, _Lee, don't! Get help!_ She was practically screaming at him in her head, but Lee ignored her.

 _I can do this,_ he reasoned cockily, _It's one little leech._

Lee ignored his little sister, too bullheaded to see proper reason, but Julie had heard Sarah's desperate pleas, and she'd launched into action without thinking. She was carrying herself toward him with as much speed as she could gather, but if she made it, it would be just in the nick of time.

"Please!" I called out, watching the hopeless velocity of Lee's trajectory, "Don't—!"

And then—the pack mind so closely connected that one of their agonies was all of their agonies—the pain crushed us, our bones collapsing like an ancient building under the force of a wrecking ball. The potency of the mental pain felt by Sarah as the newborn crushed the entire right side of Julie Black's body—who had leaped between the two—was so concentrated that I felt a palpable jolt of it course through me.

In the same moment that Sarah howled in agony, I cried out too, collapsing to my hands and knees. I wasn't Edythe right now—I wasn't here. Right now, I was only a part of the pack, I was a wolf, I was Julie, and I was in the worst pain I had ever known.

In the next moment, I could feel Beau's palm, hot and damp, between my shoulder blades, his other hand on my face.

"Edythe?" he shouted in bewildered terror, "Edythe!"

His touch, the sound of his voice, brought me back just enough to be aware of his uncomprehending fear.

"It's okay," I attempted to calm him, "We'll be alright. It's—" A strangled, sharp cry of pain interrupted my words of platitude as another shockwave tore up the entire length of my body. My left side felt numb in absence of the pain, and suddenly cold, as the newborn let my aggrieved form slump to the ground. Around me was only darkness—my eyes clenched tight against the agony—but I could hear the pack destroying the newborn who'd almost killed me.

 _We've got you, hon._

 _You're gonna be okay, Jules._

 _Hold on—just hold on._

 _Julie, you idiot! I_ _ **had**_ _him!_

"Edythe!" Beau rasped, "What's going on?"

Again, the cadence of his voice pulled me from the agony just enough to give me a sense of awareness, of presence. "It's okay, it's okay," I gasped through the barely endurable pain, "We're going to be all right. Sam—help her—"

The newborn taken care of, Samantha was the first to phase, pulling on her clothes as she fell to her knees at Julie's side, beginning to inspect the damage. Julie was howling, overcome with pain, unable to find any sort of clarity in her own mind.

Slowly, the other members of the pack gained enough control to phase back themselves, and they rushed to their sister's aid.

Sarah strained at the edge of the campsite, every muscle in her body aching to join her wounded sister.

 _I have to go,_ she thought wildly, _I have to be there—I have to make sure she's okay. I have to… I have to…_

At that moment, Beau's body went strangely limp, and I pulled him solidly against my side. Whatever was happening for him had obviously become too much to bear. Anxiety, fear and something like adrenaline coursed through me, pulling me to my feet, and I lifted Beau along with me. I recognized Sarah's readiness to launch herself down the mountain, and took one involuntary step toward her, pulling Beau forward along with me.

"Sarah!" I cried, "No! You go home _now_. Straight there. As quickly as you can!"

Sarah moaned, conflicted. _I can't, I can't… I have to help!_

If Sarah, or any of the other wolves, were still in the clearing when the Volturi arrived in only moments…

"Trust me, Sarah, _go_!" There was nothing she could do to help now, not in this moment. And even if there were, all of it would be for naught if they were still there when Jonathan arrived.

Sarah stared into my eyes for a long moment, clearly conflicted. It was a very difficult thing for her to do, to turn her back on her sisters in favor of her own safety. But she knew they'd join her just as soon as they could, and she trusted the bond we'd formed in our very brief amount of time together.

 _Fine,_ she finally relented, and obediently headed for home.

I followed her mind down the mountain as far as I could, while Beau and I lingered behind. But Sarah was moving so fast that it was no time at all before the pack's voices flickered from my consciousness.

Without thinking, I pulled Beau, still weak and pale, onto my back, and streaked toward the clearing.

He didn't speak for a long moment as I ran, his breaths shallow against my neck, and his arms so loose around my shoulders that I clutched him tightly against my back, as if he were as weak as an infant. I was fraught with misery—knowing I could offer him no affirmations in this moment, knowing there was nothing I could do to ease the anxieties that were surely running through his head.

Finally, his voice sounded, low and almost frail, in my ear. "Edythe, what… What's happening? Where are we going?"

"Right now, we're obligated to return to the clearing. We were aware that this occurrence was a large possibility. Earlier this morning, Archie saw it and passed it through Samantha to Sarah… The Volturi have decided it's time to mediate."

Beau's breath grew impossibly shallower.

"They aren't coming for us," I told him, desperate to soothe him somehow, though I couldn't _really_ make that promise to him; I didn't know for sure. "So please don't worry. Sulpicia's sent the typical deputation to… Take care of things. It's a predictable motion, nothing out of the ordinary. This is their job, after all." Even I could hear the desperate lie in my words. I remembered the strength of Sulpicia's craving for mine and Archie's company, and knew there was another possibility. I could hear myself rambling, but I was entirely unable to reign myself in. "Of course, the timing of their advent is just a little _too_ coincidental. Which leads me to believe that no one in Italy would be too mournful if our numbers _had_ been reduced by the newborns." Of course, that would mean less resistance for Sulpicia. Less reason for Archie and I to stay. Less reason for us to refuse her offer to join the guard… "But I won't know for sure what they're thinking until we reach the clearing."

Just then, we came into range of Archie's thoughts, and his voice was a resonating chorus in my mind.

 _Hurry, Edy—they're almost here. But everything'll be fine if we're all together._

"It's part of the reason we're going back," I continued, "Of course, the bigger reason is that it will be more impervious for us to gather together now. They have no orders to antagonize our family, but…" I paused to bite back my displeased snarl. Of course, my greatest desire was to keep Beau protected from yet another threat, but I knew they would only take Beau's absence as defiance. And Jonathan would not hesitate to react, as juvenilely as his appearance. He had made it very clear, in March, that he had no desire for us to join the guard, and that if presidency were in _his_ hands, he would not hesitate to take 'appropriate' action. "Jonathan is with them. If he thought we were evading them, it might… Tempt him. Like Victor did, Jonathan will most likely ascertain that you and I are together. And of course, if he asked her to, Demetrius would be able to find me easily."

A strange, smothered whimpering sound emitted from his throat, and I wanted to pull him against my bosom and kiss his hair. "It's all right, Beau—Archie can see that it will be fine."

"Archie can see?" he repeated blankly, and I knew immediately which question would follow.

Quickly, I jumped in before he could ask it. I was not sure I would be able to avoid telling him the truth if he expressly demanded it. "The pack had to leave rather abruptly. The Volturi will not respect the treaty we've made with the wolves."

Beau began to hyperventilate in my ear.

I murmured more platitudes, hoping one of them would find purchase on his scattered, overwhelmed brain. "The pack will be fine."

I could practically hear the gears turning in his mind. After a long, tense moment, he said, "What happened? Before—when Sarah was… Howling. When you were hurt?"

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. What would this do to his already fractured brain, knowing Julie had been harmed? I should have known, despite the ominous threat of the Volturi, that Beau would still find room in his dazed and burdened mind to worry about everyone else.

"Edythe?"

"It had all ended," I began reluctantly, knowing that I owed him an explanation, "They thought they were all accounted for, but the wolves failed to tally their kills… And Archie, obviously, couldn't see in order to warn them…" The words stalled in my throat. I took a deep breath, and forced myself to continue. "One of the newborns had discovered a hiding place… Lee found him—he was being an idiot, trying to prove himself to the rest of the pack… He attacked alone…" I couldn't make myself go on.

"Will he… Be okay?" It twisted my heart to hear the momentary relief in his voice, to know his assumptions were wrong, to know he thought Lee had been harmed in place of Julie…

"Lee wasn't hurt; we're almost there." Desperate to avoid the inevitability of this conversation, I attempted to distract him, but he wouldn't be swayed.

"Who… Then?"

 _In, out, in, out._ Beau's inhalations and exhalations were rapid, as well as his heartbeat. I knew he knew. I knew he suspected; he was only waiting for me to confirm his deepest concerns.

"Julie," I confessed quietly.

"Okay," Beau said easily, "I need you to let me down."

I had already slowed my pace—I could smell the thick, incensed pyres of burning newborns in the nearby clearing—and so it was nothing to let him down onto the mossy earth. I turned just in time to see Beau lurch for the ferns and spew vomit.

Automatically, I reached forward to steady him, pressing one cool palm against his forehead, knowing the coolness of my skin had helped to ease his nausea before, half afraid he would collapse to his knees.

When he was finished, he leaned heavily against me, his face slick with perspiration.

"Beau," I whispered anxiously, "I'm right here. You're okay."

 _I know this is bad timing to interrupt—but they're just about here. I need you to get out here._

"We're coming," I hissed at my brother, "Give him a minute." Of course, I said all of this too quickly for Beau to hear. I turned to stare up into his face. His eyes were unfocused and glassy, and he was trembling again.

"Beau," I said, and his eyes fixed on my face, "I'm so sorry—I know this has all been too much to handle, but we have to get out there, now. The Volturi are almost here."

His mouth opened and shut a couple of times, and then he whispered, "Jules…"

"Beau, I promise you, Julie is in good hands. Carine will go and see her as soon as we've dealt with this…"

An agonized moan slipped from between his lips, and he hung his head.

"Are you okay?" I asked, wishing I'd brought the canteen with me so he'd have something to rinse his mouth out with.

He drew another breath, squared his shoulders, and suddenly appeared very much in control. "I won't do that again," he promised.

 _Edythe, come_ _ **on**_ _!_

"Come with me," I urged, hating to force him into this, but knowing I had no other choice, "We need to go now."

He followed me a little unsteadily into the clearing, only to come to an abrupt stop as I threw my arm in front of him. A fierce hiss slid from between my teeth as I shoved Beau behind me, crouching defensively in front of him when my eyes zeroed in immediately on a tall, dark-haired vampire sitting on the ground in front of Jessamine, who had her hands over his ears.

"Whoa, whoa!" Archie said, "Okay—there's been a little bit of a complication, but—"

"Complication?" I snarled, eyes fixed on the newborn's wild face. His eyes were shut tightly, his fingers burrowed in the dirt around him. The fear and confusion was clear as day in his tense features, even if I hadn't been able to read his thoughts.

 _Can't see anything… Can't smell anything… Ugh! This sucks! What the hell is going on?_

"He surrendered," Archie explained.

 _Have some compassion,_ Carine begged me, _He didn't want to fight._

 _If you're wondering, I do_ _ **not**_ _condone this,_ Jessamine sulked, _But Earnest and Carine insisted._

I hadn't realized I'd taken an aggressive step toward the neonatal until Carine intercepted me.

"It wasn't our place to take his life in cold blood," Carine defended him, her eyes stern and unmoving.

"Carine!" I gasped, my eyes flickering between her face and the young boy's. He was _so_ young, no older than sixteen. "Do you realize—"

"It is not our decision to make," Earnest interjected, stepping to Carine's side, "When the Volturi come, they can make the decision for themselves. But the boy meant us no harm."

I sighed, seeing there was no point in arguing with them, but I kept my body between the wild kid's and Beau's the entire time.

 _One wrong move,_ Jessamine was thinking, her eyes glued to his face, _One wrong move, and he's done._

I relaxed slightly, knowing my sister's vigil was possibly even more formidable than my own. I saw immediately that she hated the risk we were taking, keeping an 'enemy' around, and I couldn't say that I didn't agree with her.

 _Kid gonna toss his cookies again?_ Royal sneered as we circled closer.

I shot him a warning glare, and turned back toward Carine. "How is Julie?"

"She's in a tremendous amount of pain, of course, but from what I can tell, no organs were punctured. I've wrapped and set her bones as well as I can—but there just wasn't enough time to do a thorough job of it… I'll have to go to her when we're done here. With her rapid healing rate, I'll undoubtedly have to re-break some of the bones, but it could be much, much worse. Julie will pull through," she finished, and her eyes were fixed on Beau's face.

Beau nodded stiffly, and I could see the relief flood his features.

"How are you doing, Beau? Today has been very difficult for you," she said to him, wanting to help him in any way she could, almost unconsciously counting his pulse in her head. _Does he feel too cool, at all?_

I shook my head. He'd warmed considerably since our stand on the mountain. _Has the trembling stilled?_

At waist-level, where Beau wouldn't see, I waved my hand side-to-side in a _so-so_ motion.

Beau cleared his throat. "Um, yeah—it's been kinda rough."

Eleanor laughed out loud at his blasé words.

"I'm very sorry that we couldn't help the timing of the Volturi's visit," she continued. "However, we should have everything resolved very quickly." She gave him a comforting smile, though I could hear the anxiety in her thoughts. _Do you find the timing rather peculiar?_

I nodded once.

 _I would have warned you if I'd had time,_ Archie was apologizing, _I feel like shit for leaving you alone like that—wish I could have taken a piece off of him myself… But you seem to have handled yourself,_ he thought proudly, and then frowned as he remembered the image he'd seen of Beau drawing his own blood. _I guess that's partially thanks to my idiot brother._ He rolled his eyes in exasperation.

I laughed quietly, a little stunned by his easy acceptance of Beau as family. He usually tried harder to refrain from titling Beau as his brother around me, knowing I didn't like it—it wasn't a sure thing, yet. But then, maybe in Archie's mind, something had happened today to make it that way…

"What?" Beau inquired.

"Archie's just being funny. It's a nice reprieve," I explained.

Beau lifted his head to glance at my brother, who met his questioning glance with an accusatory glare.

"I _told_ _you_ not to be an idiot," he snapped, pointing a finger at him, "And what do you do? Go off and slash your wrist for no good reason!"

 _What?_ Earnest thought with concern.

Beau flushed with color instantly.

Archie's focus abruptly faded, focusing in on the steps of the Volturi's advance through the familiar surrounding forest.

"Three minutes," he reported abruptly.

Jessamine's thoughts were cautious as she pulled her hands away from the boy's ears. "You'd better open your eyes now," she told him.

Cautiously, I oriented my thoughts around the newborn, keeping tabs on him, as Beau shifted by my side nervously. At that moment, the breeze shifted, and the newborn's mind went hazy red with thirst.

 _It's him! The kid I was_ _ **just**_ _hunting. Smells so good…. So fricken sweet… Wet… So_ _ **thirsty**_ _… Burning!_

If Jessamine hadn't been standing over him, I might have taken preventative action myself, regardless of Carine and Earnest's compassionate morals. But I trusted my sister enough to capably control him.

Another gust carried Beau's scent to the newborn just as he gained control of himself, and he moaned stridently through his teeth, his self-control slipping with more intensity every moment. His fingers clawed at the earth at his sides as nearly all coherent thought gave way to the painful rake of thirst in his throat.

 _Have to… Control… She'll kill me…_

Jessamine snarled a low warning at the newborn, slinking further into her defensive crouch, ready to tear his head off at a moment's notice, and I tried to turn Beau away from the garish scene with as little fanfare as possible.

 _Can barely… Fight it… Just a second… and then the fire'd be gone… He's_ _ **so**_ _close!_

I locked my eyes on his, shooting him a clear warning glare. Jessamine would be the least of his worries if he tried to make a move for Beau, and he seemed to comprehend that in my expression.

Carine seemed to recognize Jessamine's patience was waning, and was at her side in an instant, laying a calm hand on her arm.

"Have you changed your mind, young one?" she asked the slim male newborn, "Destroying you is not our desire, but if you cannot control yourself, we will have no other choice."

The boy emitted a sound somewhere between an agonized groan and a plaintiff growl. "I can't _stand_ it—I _want_ him!" Though his eyes were fixed on me, a fortifying wall between his wild instincts and Beau, he did not see me. He could only see the smooth pulse of blood underneath the thin membrane of Beau's skin. He wailed again in protest.

"You must stand it," Carine commanded him somberly. "It is possible to control yourself, and you must do that now; it is the only thing that will give you a chance of a spared life."

The boy clutched his head with dirt-caked fingers, wailing into his knees. It suddenly became clear to me that he was much more conflicted than I'd thought—and over more than the blistering thirst that raged in his mouth and throat.

 _Do I want to go on living, anyway? Don't want the pain, don't want the end… But what's the point? … Delcine… She's been gone for days already—can't… Hurts too much…_

I was stunned by the depth of the young boy's devotion to this Delcine… I could both hear his steadfastness in his thoughts, and sense it in the emotions Jessamine could feel exuding from him when he thought of this girl. For a child so young, he had a fierce ability to love… Abruptly, I was overwhelmed with sympathy for the young newborn's plight.

"Shouldn't we…?" Beau began to say, tugging on my hand in a way that would put more distance between us and the newborn. Abruptly, his eyes flashed to Beau's face at the sound of his voice—a herald. The newborn's eyes lingered on his translucent skin, the pulsing point at his throat. I bared my teeth at him, another warning—this time, he did not intercept it. "If I'm standing too close…"

"We have to stay here," I told him, squeezing his fingers. " _They_ are at the north end of the clearing now."

Five separate mental voices made themselves apparent to me, Jonathan in the lead, of course. The grisly sight of so many immortal deaths spurred the memories of some of the guard, taking them back to the days of the Southern Rebellion.

 _Wonder how many survived…?_

 _Too familiar… Why didn't we act sooner?_

 _So they're all here; not one of them lost._ "Hmm," Jonathan murmured as they emerged from the smoke like wraiths.

 _You are more familiar acquainted with these members of the guard than I ever have been. I feel it would be more appropriate for you to act as spokesperson here._

"Welcome, Jonathan." My voice was flat and emotionless as they floated forward to meet us.

Demetrius's thoughts were far less interested than the last time I'd seen her, but Fern's remained as lustfully atrocious as ever. She let her hood fall back, releasing her long hair from its coil. As it billowed down over her shoulder, she fixed her eyes on Beau's face, batting her lashes.

 _So nice to see you again,_ she thought, _And still human, I see… Delicious._

I felt myself stiffen at the sound of her inappropriate thoughts, knowing it was crucial I keep myself restrained. But I must not have been entirely in control of my facial expression, because as my eyes fell briefly on Fern's face and then flickered away, she smirked knowingly, completely unashamed of her inappropriate deliberations.

Jonathan took in the scene in front of him, boredom clear in his thoughts. However, beneath the colorless exterior, I could hear the deeper workings of his mind—baffled, and at once impressed, by the formidable strength of our family, having seemed to annihilate an entire newborn army on our own. And then his gaze fell on the slight boy sitting in the grass between Jessamine and Archie.

"I don't understand," he admitted flatly. _They've left one alive…? As prisoner?_

"He has surrendered," I explained, knowing even as I said the words that making them aware of the boy's capitulation would give them no more inclination toward mercy than they'd had before.

Fern and Demetrius shared a surprised look.

 _Renunciation? From a newborn soldier?_

"Surrendered?" Jonathan repeated, as dubious as his comrades.

"Carine presented him with the alternative."

"There are _no_ alternatives for those who defy the rules," Jonathan replied.

The rabid boy's thoughts turned suddenly numb, apathetic. _I guess whatever happens now, happens…_

 _He's done nothing wrong—it's all he's ever known._ Earnest's pleading thoughts were heartbreaking.

 _I knew this wasn't a good idea,_ Jessamine was thinking.

 _If there were any way to spare him, I would certainly take the stand for him—but it is my family's safety that takes priority._ "That's in your hands," Carine said mildly, ducking her head very slightly to show her submission. "Regardless of his reputation, he was willing to concede defeat. He made no move to attack us, and so I saw no reason to destroy him. Please—he was never taught any other way. It's all he's known." Carine's voice took on an air of desperation. In her eyes, the boy had more than redeemed himself; she knew there was more potential for him than what he'd unerringly been forced into. She had hope of a second chance for the newborn.

"What he's been taught is irrelevant."

"Yes, of course. I understand."

Jonathan stared without comprehension at my mother for a brief moment. He didn't understand how someone could retain so much compassion for someone he never would have spared a second thought for.

 _Impossible to understand this odd one,_ he thought with a small shake of his head. "Sulpicia hoped we'd come far enough west to see you, Carine. She sends her esteems."

"Thank you. Please convey my own to her."

"Certainly." He gazed around himself for a moment, for the first time impressed by our victory. _Such incredible skill in combat,_ he mused. "By and large, it seems you've been able to take care of things for us today." His eyes flickered to the newborn, still holding his head in the grass. _All except for that one._ "Just out of professional curiosity, how many were there? They left quite a trail of blood and gore through Seattle."

"Counting this one, eighteen," Carine told him.

 _That many! How on earth…?_

 _They must have incredible talents!_

 _Just seven of them…_

Of course, there hadn't been _just_ seven of us… But the Volturi didn't need to know that.

"Eighteen?" Jonathan repeated, suspicious. _Not possible,_ he thought, glancing toward the pyres, struggling to distinguish the remains in order to count. _She seems so honest, but how can we trust…? That number seems unattainable for one coven—even one of this size…_

"They all lacked any semblance of skill; most of them were barely six months old."

"Who was their creator?"

Surprising me, the boy on the ground was recalling some scene from earlier in the week. A secluded cabin in the woods, and the small group of the Volturi guard, with Jonathan at the lead, striding across an empty space of grass toward it… His vantage point was from a higher place—probably in a tree, and there was a figure at his side, sinewy and slim—Delcine? Snippets of conversation heard from within the tiny house, between the Volturi and Victor…

 _As if he doesn't know,_ the boy thought, confirming my suspicions. _As if they haven't already met! This Jonathan is a bigger liar than Rianne… Except he's way better at it than she was…_

It was suddenly clear to me that Jonathan already knew who had created this army. He'd _known_! He'd known, and they had not interceded when they'd had the chance long ago!

"His name was Victor," I told him, but of course, he already knew that.

"Was?" he asked blankly—doing a valiant effort of keeping his thoughts hidden.

I gestured toward the east, where the tower of thick, purple smoke still swirled into the air. Jonathan followed my gaze, attempting to mask his disappointment with an expression of feigned confusion.

 _Was…_ the boy thought, pleasure apparent in his thoughts as he remembered Eleanor tearing apart someone named Rochelle.

 _Pity,_ Jonathan complained. "This Victor—he was in addition to the eighteen here?"

"Yes. He had only one other accompanying him. She was not as young as this one here, but no older than a year."

 _That's Rianne—no doubt… Okay, that makes me feel a little better. If—okay,_ _ **when**_ _—I die today, at least I'll know Del was avenged…_

Sudden comprehension bloomed in my mind. Rianne must have killed this girl, the girl this boy had so obviously loved… He'd been searching for his own revenge—he seemed almost satisfied, almost content, now, and I was glad I'd been able to put that particular matter to rest for him.

"Twenty," Jonathan totaled, stunned. _And yet… None of the Cullens were destroyed… What a shame._ "Who dealt with the creator?"

"I did," I said, finding it more difficult each minute to keep my composure.

 _Whoever she is,_ the boy thought, staring at my profile, _She's a friend of mine. Even if she's the one to kill me in the end, I'll still owe her._

Jonathan turned toward the boy, hoping to confirm my story. "You there. Your name."

 _I'm dead, anyway—so why give this creep anything he wants?_ The child glared defiantly at Jonathan, having no way of knowing what was coming.

I flinched as, a moment later, his keening screams of agony tore through the air. I had to turn away, fighting the urge to hide my face in Beau's shoulder as the boy's torturous thoughts of misery filled my head, inescapable and all too relatable.

"Your _name_ ," Jonathan commanded again, and relief washed through the boy's thoughts as Jonathan released him from the fiery grips of his masochistic power.

The boy slumped against the grass, and he continued to gasp for breath, though the pain was entirely absent now. "Brett," he spit.

Cruelly, Jonathan sic'd his torturous talent on Brett once more, and his cries of pain once again tore apart the midday air.

 _Please—someone just rip my head off! Carine seems kind enough to put me out of my misery. Or their mind-reader, whoever they are. Can't he or she hear me and_ _ **make this stop**_ _?_

It was as if he were begging me directly. I knew what this felt like, I knew the tortures of Jonathan's cruel grip, and I also knew that I risked enduring that pain again now if I spoke. But the boy had done nothing to deserve this severe breech of injustice.

"He'll answer your questions," I spat at Jonathan, disgusted by his repulsive, unnecessary behavior. "There's no point in doing that."

Jonathan turned his sadistic smile on me, and I flinched, bracing myself for the pain he might inflict on me. Humor danced in his eyes, seeing he had me right in the palm of his hand. He smirked, pleased by that obviousness. "Of course not." He turned back to Brett. "Brett? Is her story true? Were there twenty of you?"

The words practically flew from Brett's mouth, as terrified as he was for the pain to return. "Nineteen or twenty, maybe more, I'm not exactly sure." He cringed into the grass, expecting to be attacked again for his ignorance. "Saul and the kid whose name I didn't know got in a fight on the way in…"

"And this Victor—did he create you?"

"I don't know," he admitted, every muscle in his body tense and tight with the anticipation of the fiery agony. "Rianne never told us who he was, and I couldn't see the night he bit me—it was too dark…" Brett shuddered, remembering the night of his change. _It hurt too much. I couldn't concentrate on anything but the fire…_ "She didn't want us to be able to think of him; she said that our thoughts weren't safe…"

"Tell me more about Rianne," he demanded of Brett, "Why did she bring you here?"

"Rianne said we had to destroy the yellow-eyes. She said it would be easy. She said the city was their territory, and they would come to get us if we didn't strike first, and that, once they were gone, all the blood would be ours for the taking. She gave us _his_ scent." Again, his wild crimson eyes fixed on Beau's face—but his affinity for self-preservation was stronger than the thirst now. "She said we'd know we had the right coven, because he'd be with them. She said whoever got him first could have him."

Lies—every one of the stories Rianne had been forced to tell them had been a lie! And worst of all: the promise that whoever got here first would have Beau for their prize. I gritted my teeth against the venomous snarl that wanted to escape, though I knew the web-spinners were dead.

"It looks like Rianne was wrong about the easy part," Jonathan said,his tone almost sympathetic, though I could hear the lack of geniality in his thoughts.

 _That's the story he wants me to tell,_ Brett realized, _The one that doesn't associate him or the other black-cloaks, that doesn't give them away the night they came to talk to Victor… The night they'd been interested in how he'd managed to stay off the radar, and then demanded he make a decision—told him that his crimes wouldn't be overlooked for much longer. The Jonathan kid had told him to 'work hard to please us'… Hey, mind-reader, you catch that? I'll play along now, let them think I'm as dumb as Kayla._

He sat up slowly. _Do I have your attention, mind-reader?_

I fixed my eyes on his face, stunned. He knew much more than he'd been letting on, and now he was doing his part to repay us for sparing his life. In the short time he'd sat here in the clearing with my family, he'd heard the wolves—wondering if they were simply another breed of vampire, but regardless deciding not to give that part away to the Volturi. What an unlikely ally we'd discovered today…

"I don't know what happened," he began. _That part's true. I still don't know what happened on the battlefield. I never even saw Kris's group. Did the howler vampires get them?_ "We split-up, but the others never came back, and Rianne left us. She promised she'd come back to help, but she never did. And then… Everything got weird and confusing, and everybody was getting torn up…" He flinched, remembering what he had thought to be a tree he'd jumped over, only to turn back and realize it had been the torso of one of his fallen recruits. "I didn't really want to stick around at that point, y'know? That one"—he nodded at Carine—"said they wouldn't hurt me if I surrendered." _I'm not betraying Carine, am I? She already told Jonathan that much anyway._

Jonathan sighed now. "Alas, it wasn't her place to offer such lenience," he told him. "Broken rules demand a consequence."

Brett only stared at him expressionlessly. _Be like Kayla,_ he chanted to himself, _Just a dumb blonde._ Of course, he knew his time was coming to an end now—but his expression gave none of his fear away.

Very brave, for such a young child. And quite articulate, more intelligent than any of us could have realized… I so wished he could have found another end…

"Are you sure you got all of them?" Jonathan asked Carine now. "The other half that split off?"

Carine nodded smoothly. "We separated, too."

 _So the howlers_ _ **did**_ _get Kris,_ Brett realized, _Whatever they were, I hope they scared the crap out of him. He deserved that._

"I can't deny that I'm impressed," Jonathan admitted. _This is ridiculous—there has to be more to the story than they're telling me… But what? What am I missing?_

"Yes," the vampires behind him agreed, equally as stumped.

"I've never witnessed a coven escape this magnitude of an attack unharmed. Do you know what was behind it? It seems like extreme behavior, considering the way you live here. And why was the boy the key?" For half a second, Jonathan's eyes finally drifted to Beau's face—disinterested and repulsed by the apparent importance of, what he thought, was an insignificant human.

"Victor held something like a grudge against Beau," I told him flatly.

He laughed, a bubbly, childlike laugh so contradictory to his nature that it was irrefutably disturbing. There was a note of incredulity to his whimsical chortling; apparently he had not been expecting such an explanation.

 _Just stay in control,_ Archie warned me then, _He'll be fine._

His sudden admonition confused me, but I didn't have time to throw him a questioning glance.

"Strange human," Jonathan noted, examining Beau's face cursorily once more, "He brings out peculiarly passionate reactions in our kind." And then he allowed his full lips to pull back from his teeth in a beatific grimace as he attempted to unleash his power on my Beau. I stiffened instinctively, my fingers tightening around his, but of course, Beau did not react.

My eyes fell, panicked, on his face, which remained smooth and uncreased by pain as Jonathan glared at him.

"Would you please refrain from doing that?" My voice was crisp with my barely -checked fury, and I understand Archie's cautioning now.

Jonathan snorted, shaking his head a little. _Why can't I bring that damn invertebrate to his knees?_ "Just checking. No harm done, apparently."

At my side, a shudder wracked Beau's shoulders, and I pulled him tighter against me—reassuringly.

"Well," Jonathan said with an air of finality, "It seems our job here is pretty much done. Odd… We're not used to being rendered unnecessary. It's too bad we missed the fight; seems like it would have been quite compelling to watch."

"Yes," I snapped, exasperated with his audacity, "Too bad you didn't arrive just half an hour earlier. Perhaps then you could have accomplished something here."

 _Oooh… Jonathan's not getting away with anything,_ Brett thought. _It's her, the little redhead, who's the mind-reader, then. Has been the whole time. So she must have heard everything I wanted her to know… That's good._

"Yes," Jonathan said, meeting my gaze levelly, though his irate thoughts betrayed his true intentions. He'd guarded his thoughts well from me this entire time, but now, he let slip exactly what I'd suspected. _She knows._ "Pity—how things turned out, isn't it?"

I nodded once to myself. Those two small words, and the snippet of memory—matching exactly to Brett's, only from a differing angle—were just what I needed to confirm my inclinations.

 _What a waste,_ Jonathan groaned to himself, _I wonder if Sulpicia will be disappointed… Only one thing left to take care of now, I guess…_

He turned his uninterested gaze on Brett now. "Fern?"

 _Time's up,_ Brett thought, understanding immediately what was about to happen. I could only catch flashes of the motivation behind his betrayal to Victor and Rianne, but it was enough to comprehend. They'd caused him nothing but heartache and pain, indecision and torment—and they'd taken away his only chance at happiness; they'd destroyed Delcine, his mate. _Thanks,_ he thought, and his crimson eyes—which suddenly didn't look so rabid anymore—locked on mine for just the briefest of moments. Then he closed his eyes.

"Wait!" I interjected, taking an involuntary step forward just as Fern advanced on the boy. Jonathan paused, cocking a bemused eyebrow, and held up a hand to halt Fern's efforts. I turned my eyes on Carine, beseeching her, though I knew every one of our efforts was hopeless. "We could teach him the rules," I suggested, "He doesn't seem adverse to learning a different way of life; he was raised in a volatile, uncaring environment, but that doesn't mean he can't change."

Carine's eyes brightened in agreement, and she turned her hopeful, eager eyes on Jonathan. "We would certainly be prepared to take responsibility for Brett. It would be our pleasure."

For a moment, Jonathan appeared truly at a loss for words. And then, with his next thoughts, I knew we didn't have a chance.

 _So naïve… Far too compassionate for their own good—mark my words, it will be your downfall._ "We don't make exceptions," he said out loud, "And we certainly don't give second chances—it's bad for our reputation, you see. Which reminds me…" He swung his mocking, vicious eyes to Beau's—which were contrastingly gentle, soft… "Athenodora will be _so_ interested to hear that you're still human, Beau. Perhaps she'll decide to visit next."

My hands curled into tiny balls at my sides, and I felt my upper lip begin to curl back in a sneer.

 _Just cool it,_ Archie ordered me. Then he cleared his throat, garnering Jonathan's attention. "The date's set," he told him, "Maybe we'll pay you a visit—say, September?" He smirked at the small boy, and for a moment, Jonathan's carefully composed mask fell away, exposing his irate annoyance.

Nothing infuriated Jonathan more than Archie's ability to steal away his element of surprise.

"It was nice to meet you, Carine," he said to my mother, completely ignoring my brother's words. "Until next time…"

Carine nodded, her eyes and thoughts filled with hopeless pain. _I'm so sorry, child—I'm sorry that we could not save you._

As Jonathan ordered Fern ahead once more, Brett's thoughts filled with contemplation about someone named Freya.

 _Wish I could have warned her about all of this… She's almost totally blind in this world full of dangerous politics and dirty cops and secret covens… But she's smart. She'll figure things out for herself… And with her talent, she'll keep herself safe. What can they do if they can't see her? Maybe the yellow-eyes will meet her someday… Be nice to her, please,_ he thought directly my way.

What could I do but nod? It was the least we could do for his valiant loyalty.

Just then, I was overcome with the worst sensation of repugnance I had ever experienced. It seemed the rest of the vampires in the clearing were not immune to it, either, as everyone's thoughts were suddenly filled with the same disgust.

In an almost uniform motion, we all turned, trying not to retch, away from the boy Fern had just been heading toward. Her reaction was the strongest. The revulsion literally bowled her feet from under her, and she collapsed to the grass, retching, struggling to scramble away from the boy.

 _What the hell?!_ Jonathan thought, incensed, struggling to turn back toward Brett, but finding himself overcome with nausea and repulsion each time he tried.

By the time the horrible sensation faded, and we turned back toward where Brett had been sitting, he was gone.

.

 **A/N:** So, one of two things. What happened at the end there, you ask? Well, Freya came back and saved Brett, of course ;) So much potential for their story (and involvement in BD) and I just didn't want to waste poor Brett's life.

Also, I didn't have Beau lose consciousness when he learned of Julie's injuries because, well, I kind of just wanted to try something else. People respond to emotional distress in all kinds of ways—fainting, going into shock, running away, vomiting, anxiety attacks… I thought I'd explore some other possibilities. This _is_ the series reimagined, after all ;)

If you have a free minute, let me know what you thought! Just two more chapters to go now, all—and I know you've been anticipating the finale ;) xo


	23. Abetment

**A/N:** Okay, it only took me this long, but I think I found my Beau. He's a model named Michael Walker, and I think he's just got that perfect mix of boyish-ness mixed with the chiseled facial features Edythe's always talking about ;) So take a minute to Google him, if you'd like!

Sorry to say you'll have to wait just one more chapter for the proposal—I know, I've left it for the very, very end! I'm so cruel! That being said, this chapter is almost entirely off-script, so it was a great opportunity for me to sneak in some things I've been meaning to from the very beginning (ahem, a certain conversation between Edythe and Charlie, anyone?)

 **.**

"Did anybody else see that?" Beau hissed when the Volturi had disappeared into the forest.

We all stared at him for a moment, baffled.

"See what?" Archie finally asked.

"That girl… She… She appeared out of nowhere…"

 _What girl?_

 _Huh?_

 _Um—did all the stress break his brain?_

"Girl?" I asked him, touching his arm carefully, "What girl, Beau? What are you talking about? We didn't see anything."

Beau glanced toward the south end of the clearing, and then down into my face. "She came out of nowhere," he said, "Almost as soon as you all turned away in disgust. She grabbed Brett's hand, pulled him off the ground—and they ran off together." For a minute, he stared down into my face, which I could feel was blank with confusion. "You really didn't see?"

"No," I said, "None of us saw anything…" I remembered that Brett had mentioned something toward the end there, about certain talents his friend Freya possessed… Had that had anything to do with it? Had she risked her life and come back for him?

"Strange," Beau said, his brow furrowing.

I turned to stare at the tips of the hemlocks beyond the south end of the field. They swayed gently in the almost-warm, almost-dry summer breeze. "Yes," I agreed, "Very strange."

 _X-ray machine… IV drip… morphine… anesthetic… sedatives… fluids… braces and splints… Her bones will probably heal too quickly to require plaster…_ Carine was busy tallying a list of the equipment she'd need to take down to the reservation in order to treat Julie with. Because of the girl's various enhanced physical characteristics, treating her in a hospital was unlikely to yield any sort of positive result. By medical standards, Julie's temperature alone should have left her dead.

Jessamine and Archie dashed about the field, ensuring every body part had been accounted for and set aflame. Already, the farthest pyres were fizzling out, pale lavender ash littering the air. Beau coughed a couple times, inhaling the thickness of it.

Carine squeezed Earnest's hand. "I'm going to prepare a few things, and then head immediately to the Blacks' home to attend to Julie's injuries," she told him softly. Her eyes flickered momentarily to my face. _I know the last thing you want to do is leave Beau's side, but I may require some assistance. If the procedure becomes too complicated—if the pain medication does not have its expected effect—I may need someone to restrain her while I reset the bones. I have no way of knowing with certainty how the process will go, seeing as I've never treated anyone like her before._

I nodded once.

"I'm coming, too," Beau said, stepping forward as Carine started toward the line of trees fringing our surroundings. I kept pace with him as he walked hurriedly to her side, his eyes intense and focused.

Carine regarded him carefully, and then turned to look at me. _I don't know if that's a good idea right now,_ she disagreed. _It won't do him any good to see her in this kind of pain._ "Beau," she said, "It might be better to give me some time with her, first, to ensure her pain is under control and that her injuries are properly assessed and taken care of."

"But if I can…"

Carine and I exchanged another glance. _He's had a very long day—he needs a break._

I nodded in agreement.

"I need to see that she's okay," Beau insisted now, and his voice was suddenly thick with emotion, and when I looked up into his face, I could see the damp sheen in his eyes.

"Shh," I crooned, lifting my hand to stroke his face, "Let's just get back to the house first, and we'll decide what to do next."

"But—"

I put my hand over his mouth. "I will take you to see her, Beau, I promise," I assured him, "Just, let's get some other things figured first."

He sighed, and then finally nodded his consent.

The run home was quiet, and as soon as we were at the house, I left Beau in Archie's hands so I could help my mother congregate the medical equipment she'd need. As we loaded up the Mercedes, Carine spoke quietly with Bonnie Black over the phone, acquiring her permission to allow us past the boundary line.

When Julie's mother had granted us authorization and the car was packed, we gathered in the kitchen, where Archie was prying what appeared to be a charred grilled cheese sandwich off the bottom of a frying pan. The air was acrid with the smell of burning butter and bread.

"If you expect me to eat that," Beau grumbled from where he was slumped at the kitchen island, his head in his hands, "You're insane."

Archie rolled his eyes. "Gimme a break, bro. We're not _all_ Jamie Oliver." He turned to me when Carine and I walked in. "I tried," he told me, "But he's just so critical."

"You can't be good at everything," I told my brother, entirely sympathetic. I turned toward Beau, who'd risen from his seat and crossed the kitchen toward me. "How are you doing?" I inquired, reaching for his hand.

He shrugged, glancing past me to Carine. "Ready to go?"

Carine hesitated. "Beau, now's not the best time—"

"I—"

"Charlie's with Bonnie right now. I'm afraid you'll need to stay here in order to keep up the pretense, Beau."

His face fell. "I just have to see that she's okay—"

"And she is," Carine promised him, "Julie will make a full recovery, rest assured; but you must understand that timing is of the essence. I need to go now before her bones heal too quickly. We'll be no more than a couple of hours, and then you'll be able to come and see her."

Beau's eyes were immediately on my face. "You're going too?"

"Carine may need my assistance," I told him, "We'll take good care of her, Beau. I'll call you the second Charlie leaves." I stretched up on my toes to kiss him softly, and then turned to follow Carine out to the Mercedes.

As we rounded the corner toward the front door, I heard Archie say, "Don't worry, man, I've got plenty of video games to keep you distracted."

"Great," Beau grumbled, not sounding distracted at all.

Carine was quiet with contemplation as we sped down the highway toward the reservation. She had never treated a patient with such a complex host of characteristics, and despite her centuries of experience, she was feeling a little unsure of herself.

 _It won't be an easy thing to watch…_ she mused, _Perhaps the pack and Bonnie should stay outside while I reset her bones… Beau did very well today._

I started, abruptly turning to face her when I realized she'd spoken the last sentence aloud. "Yes," I agreed quietly.

"I understand there were some… Dramatic moments on the mountain before the battle?"

"It was scary for a few minutes there," I admitted, "But I think he finally laid some things to rest today that he hasn't acknowledged for some time."

Carine nodded thoughtfully. "It's a difficult thing to love two people at once… But I think it's better that he realized it now. It will make things easier for him in the future, and now you two can move forward knowing he's truly acknowledged everything."

"Yes," I agreed, "He wants to be with me, with our family, and it's an incredibly selfless gift that I don't deserve…"

"My Edythe," my mother crooned softly, taking one hand off the steering wheel to lay it over mine, "You've never understood yourself very clearly. We've all made regretful decisions in our lives—that's part of the process; it's how we learn not to make the same mistakes again. It's not what we've done in the past that makes us who we are, but the people we endeavor to be in the future."

I considered that for a moment, and so did she.

"He's ready," she finally said, and in her mind, I could read the distinct confidence and esteem she held for Beau, the kind that could only come from a mother.

"Yes," I whispered, "He is… But am I?"

 _What do you mean by that?_

"It may not be the best time to speak of these things…"

"What's on your mind, daughter? We have a few moments left to ourselves, and there's always later to continue the conversation."

I sighed. "We've already decided I'll be the one to change him once we're married—and though he hasn't made a formal proposal yet, he seems to be committed to that course of action… At this point, I've given up hope on getting him down on one knee," I admitted glumly, unable to push aside the hope I'd had for that particular occurrence.

"Beau has never been one for tradition," she said with a chuckle.

Despite my efforts, I couldn't help my small smile. "No," I agreed. And then I sighed. "How did you do it, Carine?"

 _Do what, sweetheart?_

"When you changed us… How did you…?" I couldn't finish.

 _It was a very difficult thing,_ she mused, _To watch each of you suffer so severely—all the while, not knowing if I'd made the right decision, all the while wondering if each of you would despise me for what I'd done to you… I can imagine it will be all the more difficult for you see Beau in pain, of course—in a way that was not as difficult for me, for I had not yet formed the bond with every one of you I have now… And I know it will be as equally difficult for all the ethical, moral and biological reasons you've wrestled with for so long, since the day you met him… But you_ _ **will**_ _have an easier time with it than I for one outstanding reason._

"Which is?"

 _He's made his decision, Edythe. You know this is the life he's chosen, that he desires to spend forever with you. You know he stands firm on this._

"And if I'm not as firm? If I'm not strong enough—I don't mean ethically… The realization that we will spend forever together is my greatest wish come true, as despicable as that is… But if the taste of his blood is too much… If I'm overcome… If I'm not strong enough to fight the temptation…"

"You will be." She held this belief in such high esteem that she felt the need to say the words aloud. _Your entire existence revolves around his safety and his wellbeing. Your love will pull you through._

I wanted to say more, but we were nearly to the Black residence now, and I could hear both Julie's mental and physical cries of anguish. Had I known she possessed such a colorful vocabulary, I might have seen her in a different light.

Carine sighed in resignation as we pulled up behind a rusty GMC.

"Let's get to it," she said, grabbing her medical bag from the backseat.

Samantha and Bonnie met us at the door. Bonnie's eyes were bloodshot, her face streaked with tormented tears for her daughter's pain.

"Thank goodness you're finally here," she said as we crossed over the threshold. "Thank you for coming, Dr. Cullen."

The living room was packed so full of bodies that I could feel myself warming to an almost human temperature already. Most of the pack were on their feet, roaming the small space anxiously. On the couch beyond them, Charlie and Sean Clearwater sat solemnly together.

"Dr. Cullen, Edythe," Charlie greeted us with a polite nod each.

"Hello, Charlie," Carine said to him, "So sorry to have to see you again under such awful circumstances."

With formalities out of the way, I followed my mother down the hall, guided by Julie's agonized sobs. She barely noticed when we stepped into her tiny bedroom, hardly bigger than a closet. The twin bed she lay strewn across stretched wall to wall, underneath the small window, which was opened a crack.

There was barely enough room for a bureau and an end table, and with clothes and various other items strewn about, the space felt genuinely claustrophobic. The room was practically humid with the heavy odor of werewolf sweat and agony, and I tried not to cringe. Samantha had been there with her while they waited for us, but now she excused herself, finding the space far too tight as well.

"Julie," Carine said softly, kneeling by the wounded girl's head—who suddenly looked very, very young in her suffering. "How are you holding up?"

A short series of breaths burst from Julie's throat—I thought maybe she was trying to laugh. "Barely," she gasped.

Carine was already drawing up several vials of morphine as she inquired about her pain level.

"Oh, I'd say a solid eighteen point five out of ten," Julie rasped, and in spite of the circumstances, I felt the corners of my lips pull up into an amused smirk. Even in the throes of excruciating pain, Julie Black had not lost her sense of humor.

I stood at the foot of the bed, overwhelmed with commiseration for her as Carine injected three of the needles into Julie's quadricep, and then set to work on inserting an IV.

As consumed with the pain as Julie was now, I knew more was looming in front of her with the prospect of Beau's visit. I knew, in no uncertain light, that he had resigned himself to telling her goodbye for the final time when he had the opportunity to be by her side.

"In addition to fluids and more painkillers, I'm going to give you a mild sedative," Carine was telling Julie as she flushed the line. Of course, her first attempt at insertion had been flawless. "That way, you'll be conscious, but more or less unaware, while I do any required re-breaking and resetting. It's called Twilight Sleep."

"Cool beans, Doc," Julie moaned. Some of the muscles in her face had relaxed under the influence of the morphine, and Bonnie—Charlie had wheeled her to the bedside in the last couple of minutes—leaned forward to grip her daughter's limp, clammy hand between hers. I watched as she tenderly stroked a few damp hairs from her sweat-slicked forehead, her thoughts entirely oriented around her daughter's comfort levels.

For once, she paid Carine and me no mind.

"I'll do a cursory examination, and then I'll sedate you for the remainder of the procedure," Carine told Julie now. "Does that sound attainable?"

"Sure, sure."

Carine was stoic as a sentry as she set to prodding at Julie's ribs, pelvis, arms and legs. Julie flinched several times, but was made too groggy by the morphine to voice her complaints. When she was finished, my mother folded her hands in front of her.

"Okay, Julie. I'm going to sedate you now."

I couldn't be sure, but I thought Julie made an _a-okay_ symbol with her left forefinger and thumb.

"Some of the bones will have to be rebroken," she reported to Bonnie as she pressed the plunger down on the ampoule of propofol, "They're setting faster than I would like to see, and in order to ensure she's not permanently crippled, I'll have to reset several of the breaks."

Bonnie's face was grave, but her thoughts raced with anxiety, concern and grief. _My precious Jules…_ she lamented.

"You're more than welcome to stay, but things could quickly become unpleasant. It's your choice."

Bonnie took a steeling breath, and constricted her hands more tightly around Julie's inert fingers. "I'll stay," she said, her eyes fixed on Julie's face, peaceful now in partial-unconsciousness. _How can I leave her in a time like this? My pain watching her is nothing compared to the agony she's enduring._

Carine nodded, and then glanced up at me. _If you'll assist me, Edythe, I'll need your help to keep her aligned properly._

I nodded, and immediately went to her side. The best vantage point I could find was from physically putting myself in the bed next to Julie.

Carine located each misaligned bone by way of feel, abandoning the portable x-ray machine in the hallway, working quickly but efficiently. In a way that was only manageable because of her special abilities, she grasped each crooked bone, snapping and bracing as she went.

Occasionally, Julie flinched in her half-unaware state, and in a way that felt automatic and very natural, I did what I could to comfort her—stroking her forehead, holding her hand, murmuring words of platitude and encouragement. Thankfully, she was drugged enough not to cry out in pain—though I wondered if this was simply due to the fact that she was unable to draw the strength to do so through the haze of the opiates.

I felt horrible pathos for the girl who'd had to endure such unspeakable pain, when she'd only been looking out for a fellow pack member. She deserved none of this, I thought again, as I had earlier. Not the physical pain, and certainly not the emotional anguish that was surely to come… But who was I to stop Beau from finally putting to rest such a burden he'd struggled so severely over, and for so long?

It didn't take long for Carine to finish after that, and when she finally pulled back, I breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"It's over, honey," Bonnie whispered to her daughter, her voice broken and ragged as tears streamed over her cheeks, dripping from her chin, "You did so well…"

I didn't think Julie would be able to hear her mother. From the sound of it, she was already asleep.

"Try to keep her as still as possible," Carine directed while she put her things away, and then set up a morphine drip, "When she wakes, try and have her eat and drink something. Opiates may wreak some havoc on her digestive system… I've set up a morphine pump so she'll be able to manage her pain. I won't let her overdose, but I've increased the dosage considerably, as her body temperature will burn off its effects at a quicker rate. I'll be back to check on her again later this evening."

Surprising the both of us, Bonnie reached out to grip Carine's hand firmly. "Thank you so much, Doctor," she told my mother, not a trace of insincerity in her voice or mind, "Your kindness has been nothing short of a blessing undeserved."

"As has yours," Carine replied gently, "Try to get some rest, Bonnie. It's been a long day for you, as well."

"Sure, sure," Bonnie said as Carine gathered the last of her things.

I climbed off the bed—the sheets were soaked with sweat—and turned to Bonnie, who had not moved an inch. "Bonnie, do you have clean sheets anywhere?"

"Closet in the hall," she informed me without taking her eyes from Julie's face.

I went to retrieve them, and then stripped Julie's bed of the soiled sheets, replacing them just as quickly, while I tried not to jostle her broken body. Julie didn't respond to my ministrations whatsoever, as deeply asleep as she was.

"How's she doing?" Charlie asked from the bedroom doorway. As much as he tried not to, he had a difficult time not picturing Beau in Julie's place. _Never getting on one of those damn death traps again…_

"I don't think she'll be riding a motorcycle anytime soon… Or ever again," Bonnie responded, as if Charlie had spoken the latter thought aloud. I realized that this had been the cover story for Julie's extensive injuries. "But Dr. Cullen did a thorough job here… Julie will pull through without any permanent damage."

"Good to hear."

"Yeah." Bonnie turned exhausted eyes on Charlie's face, and I was surprised when affection flickered through her thoughts. I was even more stunned when the same contemplations made themselves apparent in Charlie's. "Thanks for staying with me today, Charlie."

He crossed the small room and put an arm around the woman's shoulders, giving her a squeeze. "'Course, Bon. Always here when ya need me."

I felt suddenly very intrusive, and left the room as quickly and as quietly as I could. However, I could not quite pull myself away from the scene in the bedroom behind me, and lingered in the hallway.

Charlie and Bonnie sat together in silence for a time, Bonnie's head on his shoulder. How had I never noticed the bond these two shared? How had I never noticed all the unspoken feelings between them, simmering underneath the surface for so long? The two had all but grown up together, and to my surprise, I was able to draw several parallels between their relationship that I'd formerly been able to between Beau and Julie. It was clear Bonnie had harbored affectionate feelings for Charlie from the time they'd been teenagers. She'd watched him fall in and out of love with Renee, she'd watched him struggle through his parents' final stages of life, had watched him commit himself to the safety and wellbeing of his town, as if it could somehow make up for his inability to do the same for his son…

And all the while, she'd never swayed. Of course, she'd gotten married and had children of her own, but I could see now that she'd never truly been in love with George. It always had, and always would be, Charlie…

Finally, she turned to him. "I think I'm going to lay down for a bit… But I'll call you when she wakes up, or if anything changes."

Charlie nodded, his thoughts solemn and devoted. "Sure thing," he said, and then stood, turning Bonnie's wheelchair for the door. I quickly strode toward the living room as he pushed her across the hall and got her settled in her own bed.

When he joined us in the front room, I could see he was nearly as exhausted as she was.

"Well," he said, "I should be gettin' home. I'll be expecting Beau soon."

Carine nodded. "We'll be sure to keep you in the loop."

"I appreciate that." Charlie turned his gaze on me for a moment, and something in his thoughts shifted. "Thanks for being here for Julie, Edythe. It means a lot to everyone."

"Of course, Charlie," I said, "It was… It was the least I could do." Again, that familiar sympathy bloomed hollowly in my chest, panging like a funeral drum.

He turned to gather his jacket, and just as he opened the front door, I called out after him.

"Could I speak with you for just a moment?"

"Sure," he said as I followed him out onto the tiny porch. "What is it, Edythe?"

We huddled together under the faded red cottage's slim eave in order to avoid the rain. I took a breath.

"I owe you an apology, Charlie," I began, and his thoughts grew impossibly more perplexed. "Beau forgave me some time ago—as little as I deserve his forbearance—but I know you've had a harder time letting the things I've done go… As have I."

He opened his mouth to protest, humiliated that he'd been so seemingly forthright with his true feelings, but I held up a hand to stop him.

"I deserved every one of your cautious reservations, Charlie. I don't mean to call you out on it; I merely mean to acknowledge that there's been a wedge between you and I for some time, and I know I've deserved it… I… I broke your son's heart. I know how badly I shattered him when I left, but if you'd be so kind as to allow me to do what I can to explain my actions, I would be eternally grateful."

I gazed up into his face, and found nothing but reception in his expression and thoughts, though he didn't say a word.

"When my family and I moved to Los Angeles, I truly thought I was doing him a service by letting him go. Neither of us knew how much my actions would scar the both of us, neither of us could have seen such devastation coming… But I wanted him to have a happy life without me, Charlie. I didn't want him to retain any obligation for me when I was miles and miles away. If he found the ability to move on with his life without me, I wanted him to be able to do that without any regrets or feelings of remorse…

"But I never could have guessed how doing so would hurt me… I fell into a very, very deep depression while we were away, Charlie, one I didn't think I would ever recover from. I love your son with all that I am, and putting a mere thousand miles between us did nothing to change that… I know you may find it difficult to believe, but it broke my heart just as much as it broke his when we left…

"The interim winter and spring were very, very difficult for me… I felt very lost, and everything felt very meaningless without Beau in my life. Everything had lost its color, had lost its purpose. I could no longer feel the sunshine on my skin, or the breeze in my hair. Everything was seen through the sieve of Beau's absence… Which brings us to the day in March when Beau left the state because of me…

"I feel so very ashamed of what I put everyone through…" Unerringly, my voice caught as I remembered the day I'd spent in Volterra, waiting for my end—seeing no other choice. "But I had decided that I could no longer live apart from him… Without Beau, there was nothing—and I was so lonely. All my attempts at distraction, at healing, were for naught. It's a very difficult thing to explain, suicidal ideation… There aren't words for the pain I was in, there isn't a way to describe or compare the feeling… But please, Charlie, know this." I fixed my eyes on his face, which was soft with sudden understanding. "Beau saved my life that day, and if I had succeeded with my plan… The pain inflicted on everyone would have been incomparable, matchless and impregnable. If it hadn't been for your son's daring, fearless and prompt action, I would not be here today… I wanted you to know that, sir, because I have every intention of repaying your son with my devotion and my love for the rest of eternity."

For a moment, Charlie's thoughts raced. _Suicidal… Heartbroken… Felt the same as him…? If I'd known… All this time…_

"Edythe, I'm so sorry," he finally said, his voice thick with emotion.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sir."

"I'm sorry to say I can relate to some of what you went through… After Renee left with Beau when he was a baby… Well, that was a very difficult time for me. I felt a lot of the things that you felt… But I never thought, even for a minute, that you would have felt that way… It changes a lot of things for me, kiddo… I owe you an apology myself. I've been seein' you in a pretty dark light for some time, now, because I never understood your motives, or what you might have been goin' through yourself. To know that you were just as broken up about it as him—maybe even _more_ so…" We both flinched as he recalled the vivid detail of Beau's months of depression and apathy. He shook his head to himself. "I can't imagine…"

He gazed down at me for a long moment, and then unexpectedly pulled me to him in a fierce hug.

"You're one brave girl, Edythe Cullen," he whispered fiercely in my ear. "Thank you for lovin' my boy."

With more clarity than I'd ever seen in his mind before, I heard the exact moment when his acceptance of me hit home. With misunderstanding and mislaid feelings aside, he could finally see the truth of his son's commitment for me, the reasons behind his devotion, his steadfastness, and his defensiveness. And as I listened, a recent conversation between Charlie and his son was seen in an entirely different light for him.

I saw the two of them at the small kitchen table, a matching engagement and wedding band sitting between them—the same engagement ring I'd seen in Archie's vision.

" _You sure about this, kid?" Charlie had asked, his voice heavy with skepticism and doubt._

" _I'm sure about Edythe, Dad. I have been for a long time."_

" _But—to get married so soon, to…"_

" _The day Gramps gave me these rings, he said, 'Find a girl you can't live without, one that makes the sun shine when the clouds pour rain' and I've found that, Dad. I've found that in Edythe."_

Charlie had given his son a long look, seeing the irrefutable determination on his face, hoping he wasn't making the same mistake he himself had so many years ago.

" _If you're absolutely sure…"_

" _I am."_

As the memory faded from Charlie's mind, he pulled back from our hug and put his hands on my shoulders.

"You two have somethin' else," he said, "Somethin' a lot of us don't understand, but it's somethin' none of us can argue."

"Thank you, Chief Swan."

"Now, what did I tell you?" he halfheartedly chided, his sudden smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, making them sparkle, "You call me Charlie."

.

Beau was waiting for me on the front porch when I slipped through the trees.

His frame was slumped with exhaustion, and his eyes filled to the brim with worry and strife.

He took me into his arms as I came up the porch steps, and I rested my head against his chest.

"How is she?"

"She's asleep—she'll be unconscious for awhile."

"Can I—?"

"Yes," I said, pulling him toward the garage, where Archie already had the car idling, "We'll take you to see her. Charlie's just left, so it can only be for a minute or two. He's expecting you at home soon."

Archie zipped quickly down the interstate and parked behind the house so we wouldn't attract any needless attention. Beau had the door open before Archie had even put the car in park, and stumbled out into the late afternoon light.

 _Just a few minutes,_ Archie warned me as Beau towed me behind him.

I nodded curtly as we rushed around the house for the front door. Beau paused in the doorway, seeing the pack gathered in the living room. Lee was glaring at him viciously—which I hoped he didn't see—and Bonnie was nowhere in sight. I could hear her snoring softly in the next room, her quiet, peaceful dreaming a kind reprieve to the current reality of her days.

Sarah was the first to react to our presence, uncurling her long legs and rising from the ragged armchair in the corner of the room.

"Hey, guys. How you doing, Beau?" she inquired as she skipped up to us.

"Hello, Sarah," I greeted her with a soft smile.

"Hey," Beau said, "How are _you_?" He watched her for one intent moment, and I knew he was recalling the battle on the mountainside.

Sarah lifted a fist and pounded the center of her chest. "Healthy as a horse!" she exalted, grinning. Without warning, her expression fell. "Wish I could see the same for Jules…"

Beau's eyes swung across the room, toward the hallway. He still held tightly to my hand, and I expected him to release it now, but he dragged me with him as he went in search of Julie.

He paused just on the other side of her open doorway, and I heard his heart rate pick up.

"I can stay out here, if…"

"No," he said firmly, squeezing my fingers, "It's okay."

He seemed to steady himself with a deep breath, and then stepped forward, into the room. The breath escaped with a whoosh from between his lips, and I stroked his hand.

"She'll be right as rain in a few days," I assured him as his eyes roamed the various supports and struts holding up the right side of her body. Underneath the quilt, Carine had taped her ribs securely. His eyes lingered on the needle in her arm, and the IV pole plugged into the wall.

Beau took a few careful steps across the room and sunk into the chair someone had placed at her bedside. For the first time since we'd arrived, he released my hand, reaching out with both of his to envelope her left fingers between his.

"Hey, Jules," he whispered, and his voice was raw with emotion, "I'm here."

There was no indication that she'd heard the words he'd spoken. Her mind was a steady stream of blankness, interspersed with brief moments of awareness, which signified she was dreaming. For now, she was blissfully unaware of the pain that was to come.

I watched the two of them, friends bonded by pain and heartache and the insurmountable climb back up toward daylight. I saw the pain and the concern on Beau's face, and there was a tormented, fractured light in his eyes—no doubt—but there was no longer indecision and reluctance there. He was sure of his course, now, and as I watched him squeeze her fingers, I knew he'd begun to say his goodbyes.

A few seconds later, the somber scene was interrupted by Archie's shouts of impatience inside my head.

I sighed in exasperation, and Beau heard that. He looked up at me.

"Archie?"

"Yes," I said, frowning, "He seems to think Charlie is far more suspicious and edgy than he actually is."

Beau's eyes drifted back to Julie's face, his expression disinclined.

 _Let's go already!_

"You can come back when you've had a chance to talk to your father and have had some dinner," I reminded him, "She might even be awake by then. I'm sure you'd like to talk to her."

"If she doesn't hate me forever," he mumbled under his breath, guilt saturating his tone.

I put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Julie could never hate you, Beau."

"I think she could."

"What you'll become, she may despise—because it's in her nature to do so. But you'll always be her friend, Beau. Life nor death will change that, and if she gives you the chance, in time, she'll be able to see that, too."

He considered that for a moment, and it seemed to give him the motivation he needed to pull himself to his feet.

"I'll see you later," he said to her, and then turned to face me. "You'll stay, right?"

That took me off guard, and I felt my face go blank with surprise. But, of course, I would do whatever he asked of me, so I assented immediately.

"I just… Don't want her to be alone when she wakes up," he said quietly, throwing one pained glance at her slack face again.

I touched his arm. "I can understand that. I'll sit right here." And I lowered myself into the chair by her bed. "Go on. Archie's waiting for you."

He stood in the doorway for one more minute, watching the two of us, unfathomable emotion in his eyes, and I wondered, for the millionth time, what he must be thinking. But before I could ask, he turned away and shuffled slowly down the hall.

I turned my gaze on young Julie Black as the front door closed behind Beau, and then a moment later, Archie's Porsche thrummed to life behind the house, vibrating the foundation of the tiny, worn cottage.

I felt the oddest temptation to reach out and hold her hand, in the same way Carine, Bonnie, and Beau had done—wanting to comfort her in some way. I knew this life had not been easy for her. She'd lost her father at a young age, and soon after she'd become her mother's sole caretaker. Not long after that she'd been thrown into a world of mysticism and supernatural rules and obligations—none of which she'd ever believed in before.

And the other things, the very simple, human things: She loved a boy with all her heart, who just couldn't love her back in the way she'd wanted, maybe even needed… I hoped one day she would find that love, would realize that it had been within reach all along.

And Beau… So prepared he was to say one of his final, hardest farewells… I knew he understood the mechanics of it all, the theory of it, was easier than the actual experience. It would be very difficult for him to say goodbye. I had seen the grief in his eyes, the pain a practical obsidian shadow around him. I could only hope that grief would fade in time, along with his human memories.

Would his love for the girl I watched over now diminish in the same way? I knew Beau loved her with prodigious human emotion and strength—but was it just that? Human? His love for me had always been extraordinary, even in the times I had not been able to make sense of it. Would that simple distinction make all the difference?

I couldn't know for certain. Not until the time came when Beau would open bright crimson eyes to his second life.

.

 **A/N:** So, though Carine could have put Julie right under to reset her bones, that would have TECHNICALLY required breathing support and an anesthesiologist, and I just didn't think they'd have those resources available, so I opted for twilight sleep instead—which many simply know as a dated obstetrics practice, but is occasionally used in minor surgeries such as this one :)

(P.S. By some random stroke of luck, I stumbled across Bonnie's late husband's name while doing some character development for Julie, which I might end up posting. It's Life and Death's 'Scary Stories' from her POV. I've also made a playlist for her over on 8tracks. Check it out, if you want - /wintersunshine/moon-child)

Just one more to go, now! Ah! And then we'll be moving on to BD!


	24. Engaged

**A/N:** The finale! Oh my goodness, we've made it. I can hardly believe it.

.

It was twilight when Julie finally opened her eyes.

"Hey, there," I said to her softly.

 _The hell…?_ she thought groggily as she blinked languidly, finding me leaning toward her. _Am I dreaming? Why is Edythe here, of all people?_

She tried once to speak, but her mouth and lips were so dry that no coherent sound emitted. "Hi," she tried again.

"Water?" I offered, reaching for the glass on the table.

 _Thanks._

I held the straw to her lips for her as she took a few small sips. She closed her eyes again for a moment, overcome with exhaustion and the ache of rapidly healing bones.

 _So—am I crippled for life?_

I laughed softly. "Not quite," I informed her, "Carine says you'll make a full recovery."

Just at that moment, she appeared in the doorway, rapping her knuckles softly against the jamb. She stepped to Julie's bedside, laying a hand on my shoulder.

"Nice to see your eyes again," she said softly to the prone girl, smiling softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Could be better," Julie croaked, and then cleared her throat.

Carine slid the morphine pump's control into Julie's palm, closing her fingers around it. "You can hit the button every ten minutes. If that's not enough to keep the pain under control, let me know."

Julie nodded groggily, letting her eyes flutter shut as her thumb depressed the button three times in a row.

"I'll just examine you once more," Carine said as I rose from my chair. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye as she took Julie's blood pressure. _I'll see you in a little bit._

I nodded just as my cellphone began to buzz in my pocket. I stepped out into the hallway to answer it, and then continued on through the front room and out the door.

"Beau went home about an hour ago. I assume he's on his way to the Blacks' now, seeing as his future just disappeared."

"I'm on my way to you, now," I told him, making my way down the exact center of the gravel road.

"I think that's a good idea. From what I can tell, Beau could use a minute alone to talk with her."

"I think he's going to tell her goodbye," I guessed. It took a weight off my shoulders to finally be able to talk about it to somebody.

"Me, too," Archie agreed, "He had some pretty… big questions for me this afternoon." I knew enough from his tone that there wasn't a chance he'd elaborate on that, so I told him goodbye and ended the call.

Then I began to run for home.

.

I struggled to find ways to distract myself in the hour it took Beau to be ready for me again.

I tried listening to music in my room, or even writing out my feelings in a journal that had been left in disuse for so long that the emerald green cover was covered in a thick layer of dust. When that only seemed to make my impatience worse, I went downstairs in search of companionship.

I found Jess and El playing a board game, and decided I'd join them.

I had just about forged my entire empire and had taken winning title, when Archie appeared in the doorway. The easygoing scene in front of me abruptly vanished in favor of the agonizing image of Beau, crumpled over the steering wheel of his truck, sobbing mournfully.

"What happened?" I demanded, jumping to my feet.

Eleanor and Jessamine's gazes swung between us, curious and concerned.

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head, "But he needs you."

The blatancy of that observation was irrefutable, and in seconds, I was running down the highway, my hair a stream behind me.

Despite the recent armistice between our family and the tribe, I was relieved to see he'd parked his truck on the shoulder half a mile past the boundary line. In an instant, I was pulling open the door and sliding into the cab with him.

"Oh, Beau," I whispered brokenly at the site of his inconsolable pain—red eyes, face streaked with tears, ribcage wracked with hiccupping sobs—and pulled him to me. At first, he resisted me, muttering quiet protestations through the grief, but I refused to listen to him. I knew this outward show of emotion must be embarrassing for him, but I would assure him, once he was calmer, that there was no need to be self-conscious.

I comforted him as best I could, stroking his hair, kissing his forehead, rocking him to and fro against my shoulder… But nothing seemed to help. My distress multiplied with each passing minute as his sorrow refused to abate. What could have caused this magnitude of suffering? What had happened between him and Julie to bring this on? Had the conversation Archie and I both suspected taken place—had Beau said his farewells? And if so, had it truly been the correct decision if it was causing him this much pain? Or had Julie merely said something hurtful to inspire these desolate tears?

I just didn't know—and he was too distraught to give me any sort of answer at this moment in time. So I did all I could do, holding him as twilight gave way to dusk around us, and then sinking further into nightfall.

His tears had finally quieted when there had still been light in the sky, but for a long time, he remained slumped against me, his breathing remaining uneven.

When he straightened, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes, which were rimmed red and swollen, I regarded him warily. He reached forward to turn the key in the ignition, but I put my hand over his to stop him.

"Are you sure you're ready to go home?" I asked him.

He stared at the decal in the center of the steering wheel, tracing it with the tip of his thumb, swallowing thickly. "I'm ready," he said, and the two simple words resonated strangely through the small cab, as if they'd meant more than a simple alacrity to return home.

Without warning, a few more sobs broke from the back of his throat once more, and he bowed his head mournfully over the wheel. "Sorry," he gulped, lost in the throes of his grief once more.

"It's okay," I assured him, stroking his hair, "We can sit here for as long as you need."

He shook his head. "It's not—" he tried to say, but the emotion seemed to strangle his next words. He tried several more times to speak before he gave up the effort once more.

I stroked his shoulders, his hands, his hair, his face, for several more minutes. The tears were never-ceasing twin rivulets down his cheeks, the rims of his nostrils damp, and the tip of his nose bright red.

"Okay," he finally gasped, though the emotion showed no sign of breaking, "Let's go."

He fumbled again for the ignition.

"Beau…"

He shook his head jerkily. "It's not—I won't—he can't…" He drew a ragged breath. "Need to go… Charlie'll wonder where I am…"

"Okay, okay," I said as his shaking fingers twisted the key. "We'll go—but please, let me drive."

He gulped a couple times, and then finally nodded, shifting toward me. I eased myself across his lap and into the driver's seat, holding his hand while I steered us back onto the street.

I drove more slowly than I'd ever driven his truck before, wanting to give him time to regain his composure, but it seemed a lost effort. Though the wracking sobs seemed to slow, the agony on his face did not recede, and the tears continued to fall.

"Wait for me upstairs," he said when we pulled up in front of the house.

I nodded, watching him turn away from me and climb out of the truck. He headed up the drive with a gait that I could only describe as elderly, as if the whole world was weighing on his world-wearied shoulders.

I waited until the front door was shut behind him—a force of habit now, for there were no remaining threats to his safety—and then rounded the side of the house and climbed through his window.

Downstairs, Charlie's thoughts contorted with fear and despair as he took in Beau's miserable expression, immediately assuming the worst.

"Julie's fine," Beau assured him from the foot of the stairs.

Charlie lingered in the living room doorway, pain and concern clutching at his heart. "But what about you?" he urged.

"I'll be fine, too. I just… Had to talk to Julie… About some tough things. I'll be fine," he said again.

Charlie's anxiety abruptly dissipated in favor of disapprobation. He knew immediately what subject matter Beau was referring to.

"Was this really the best time for that, son?"

"Probably not," Beau huffed, "But it… It had gone on for long enough." His voice was strained by the end of the sentence, and I heard him take a few shuddering breaths to regain control. Through Charlie's eyes, I could see that he'd turned his back to his father, his shoulders curved severely with his depression. They jerked shakily as Beau drew several steadying breaths. "Sometimes, there just isn't a way to compromise," Beau finally said, "Sometimes you have to let some things go, for better…"

Charlie immediately understood. "How did she take it?"

Beau didn't say anything, and I could see that he'd turned his face away from his father in shame. For Charlie, that was plenty enough explanation. Pity for Julie, and that same wave of discontent with his son rising again, Charlie said, "I hope you didn't mess up her recovery."

Beau remained quiet.

Charlie sighed, feeling all around dejected—but just before Beau bid his father goodnight, I heard a brief flicker of hope… Anticipation, in his thoughts.

… _waited for so long…_

"G'night, Dad," Beau was saying, and I could hear his footsteps on the stairs.

"Yeah," Charlie mumbled distractedly. "Sleep well, kid."

A moment later, Beau stumbled through the door to his bedroom. I could see that the tears had increased in tempo once more. Made blind by them, Beau groped unseeingly at the leather cord around his wrist—the gift Julie had painstakingly slaved over for him.

"No, Beau," I protested, catching his hand, "It's part of who you are."

For a minute, he froze, and then he raised bleary, heartbroken eyes to my face. "I'm leaving that part behind me," he insisted, but I shook my head insistently.

He turned toward his bureau, gathering his things.

"Take as long as you need," I encouraged him as he headed for the bathroom at the other end of the hall.

The falling water would have drowned out the horrible sounds of Beau's grief for Charlie, but where I curled myself in his rocking chair in the corner, I could hear all of it. The punctuated sobs first, and then the hammer of his fist against the tile wall a little later.

He stayed in the shower for over an hour, and when he finally joined me in his bedroom again, he didn't say a word. He only took me in his arms, curled up under the comforter, and closed his eyes.

This night was one of the longest in my existence—and I'd had a couple of long nights. I could not make sense of the absolute violence of his grief—what good could come of this?

I couldn't help the thoughts of self-loathing that rose in my mind as the hours stretched toward morning. Hadn't I be the one to cause all this? It was my fault he was so distressed, it was my fault he'd had to give up so much… It was my fault he'd been in so much pain when I'd left, and it was my fault he was in so much pain now…

I couldn't help but compare the two separate times I'd seen him so afflicted—both so dissimilar it was jarring, and yet, somehow, so much alike. One, through the memory of others; this one through my own eyes.

Both losses had obviously torn him apart, but his response to Julie's forfeiture was incomparably violent, while his reaction to mine had been disturbingly docile. I couldn't help but wonder at that. What had made the difference for him? Why did he choose to react in _this_ way _now_ —instead of the reaction he'd had then?

It was hours later that Beau finally succumbed to sleep. A part of me relaxed as he did, though the doubt continued to assault me the whole night through.

Though he'd made his decision clear, I couldn't help but wonder if he'd made the right choice after all? The strength of his grief was so formidable that I couldn't help but wonder if it had taken his words of farewell to Julie to make him realize just what he was giving up? Had he seen the possibility of a life with her flash before his eyes, and mourned it before it had begun? Had he realized he'd be able to live a relatively normal life—he wouldn't have to give up his mother or his father, or his friends. He could remain where he was, one foot in the world of the supernatural, one foot on the plane of normalcy. And he could be happy.

As dawn approached, I realized that with the morning light, the clarity may come to him. When he woke, would he still be as sure of his decision as he had been yesterday? Would his choice still be _me_?

I grappled with the possibility as the morning light crept up and over the sill of his window and eventually woke him. When his eyelids peeled back to show his bloodshot eyes, I tensed, holding myself against him for what could be the last time.

"Hey," he whispered, and his voice was rough with disuse and the toll last night's devastation had taken on him. "I'm sorry."

"Please—"

"No," he said, reaching up to press his warm fingertips against my lips, "Let me say this. I'm sorry you had to see that. It wasn't fair to you. But I'm good now." He attempted a shaky smile, and I had to say I wasn't quite convinced.

Before I could say anymore, he sat up and headed for the bathroom. When he returned five minutes later, his hair was combed, he was dressed, and his breath smelled minty.

"Where are you going?" I asked him warily as he pulled on his shoes. Would he ask me to leave now? Was he going back to La Push?

" _We_ ," he corrected me, "Are going to your house."

"My house?" I repeated vacuously.

He grinned, and his smile was so beautiful—especially after his night of desolation—that my heart cartwheeled.

.

Some decision had been made in the time Earnest and Beau had been away, that much was clear.

I met them on the front porch, and linked my fingers with Beau's. I threw Archie a questioning look, who'd been waiting with me, as his mind immediately strayed into strange territory.

 _It's a small world after all, it's a small world after all… It's a small, small world…_

 _Es ist schlieblich eine kleine Welt, es ist doch eien kleine Welt… Es ist eine kleine, kleine Welt…_

Archie continued right on translating the most annoying song in the world into every language he knew of. When I glanced at Beau, I was surprised to see him grinning. His trouble from last night and this morning had seemed to all but vanish.

Earnest gave me a tight hug, his thoughts also busy and distant, before casting Beau a look of clear fatherly approval and appreciation before going inside.

"Let's go to the meadow," Beau said then.

Without a word, Archie pivoted toward the door.

Now, he was translating the song into Arabic. I frowned at his back as he disappeared inside, leaving me and Beau alone.

"Something wrong?" Beau asked when I continued to stare after my brother.

I opened my mouth to protest, but just then, I heard his heart lurch, and when I flicked my eyes up to his face, splotches of pink were blooming across his features.

"You guys are hiding something from me."

Beau's eyes widened, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. "Wah-what? No way." He laughed, a quiet, nervous sound. "What would we be hiding?"

 _Hmm,_ Archie was thinking inside, _Wonder if a band, or a DJ would be better…?_

I glared suspiciously at the door, and as if Beau had suddenly garnered the ability to read my mind, he tugged on my hand.

"Let's go," he urged.

"Alright," I relented finally, turning away from the house. Beau climbed onto my back and I headed for the trees. Overhead the clouds were just a thin, gauzy layer, most of the blue showing through.

There was a new, rejuvenating feel to the air around me as I ran. There were no more threats to hide from, no more danger, and the wildlife seemed more active today in response to that. Summer had the forest blooming to vibrant life around us, and I felt giddy with the prospect of forever, truly ahead of us now. There was only joy to pull Beau and I forward. I felt untethered by the anxiety and fear that had been such a large part of our lives for the preceding weeks—months, even. It was a giddy feeling that filled my chest like a balloon as I ran.

When we arrived at the meadow, it was bathed in an ethereal light, and carpeted with soft grasses, colorful daisies, phlox and Olympic violets. It was a place as if from a dream, and for a moment, I stood in the shadows rimming the perfectly circular clearing, watching Beau stride through the long grass toward its center.

Abruptly, I was lost in my own memories, recalling the day I'd brought him here for the first time. So much truth had already revealed itself between us by that point, but that had been the day I felt I'd truly bared my soul to him. The day I'd confessed every ugly truth, every tarnished sin, every bilious and deplorable part of me, and still he'd accepted me wholeheartedly.

It had also been the day we'd shared our first kiss.

It had been a day filled to the brim with new discoveries and unexpected victories.

As I watched, it was as if the day were replicating itself now as Beau glanced over his shoulder, expecting me to be right behind him—as he'd done that day over a year ago. His eyes, shatteringly brilliant in the sunlight, fell on my face, and he held out his hand, an invitation, a radiant smile on his perfect lips.

I beamed now, free from every insecurity and hesitation that had plagued me that very first day, and stepped forward to join him.

We sat together in the damp grass, and Beau tilted his head back to watch the clouds above skitter across the sky. He traced idle patterns in the smooth skin on the underside of my wrist as he lounged there, seeming lost in thought.

I waited for him to speak, remaining suspicious. He had been so distraught last night, and suddenly he seemed so free… The curiosity elicited by his strange change in moods was unendurable.

After many more moments of silence, I could stand it no longer.

"What are you thinking?"

He turned thoughtful blue eyes on me—as deep as the sea, deep as mortal sleep… and smiled softly. "I'm thinking…" he began contemplatively, "That I'm probably just about the luckiest guy alive." He was beaming now, and I felt my own smile bloom in response to his joy.

"And why is that?"

Beau shook his head. "Where do I start?" he mused, tracing his silken fingertips along the lavender-hued veins at the crease in my elbow. "I have you, forever. A second family who's accepted me from pretty much the beginning… For the most part… All my troubles are behind me…" His brow creased as he looped his thumb and forefinger around my arm, just above my elbow. "What more could I ask for?"

I regarded his expression carefully, searching for any signs of disinclination or regret. Even as he said the words, I could see it: the rest of our future in his eyes. I could see him standing by my side, impeccably dapper in his tuxedo as we exchanged our vows in front of friends and loved ones, I could see him holding me in his arms as we shared our first dance under fairy lights; I could imagine how it would feel to have his arms around me as we made love on our wedding night; I could see his eyes, vibrant crimson after his change, and then the gradual shift to gold as he joined my family's way of life… And after that, well, the possibilities were endless.

Still, I had to ask. "Are you _sure_ , Beau?" I couldn't rest until I knew for certain. "Are you sure you made the right choice? Before last night, I'd never seen you in more pain…" I traced his perfect brow, the edge of his eye, his flawless, angular jaw. He regarded me seriously as I forced myself to continue. "If it hurts you so much, how can it be right…?" I felt my brow crease with consternation.

Beau cupped my cheek in his warm, soft hand and smiled easily. "I'm sure," he said, without an ounce of hesitation in his voice.

"How can—?" I started to ask, but he put his other finger over my lips.

"And let me tell you why," he requested. He looked away for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts, and then his eyes lifted to my face again. "This wasn't a choice between you and Jules; it was a choice between who I should be and who I am, who I used to be, and who I've become. I've always felt out of step—literally stumbling through my life. I've never felt normal… Because I'm _not_ normal. I don't _want_ to be."

I started to open my mouth, but he interrupted me again.

"I've had to face death, and loss, and pain in your world, but I've also never felt stronger, more real, more my _self_ —because it's my world, too. It's where I belong… I made a mess of things trying to figure that out, and I might have hurt just about everyone I care about doing it—and I'll never be able to repay everyone for that—but now I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this is what I want. _You_ are what I want." He shook his head, eyebrows pulling together. "Not just want," he corrected himself, "But _need_. It hurts to lose Jules, but… I can live with that pain. I literally _can't_ live without you. How do I put this…?" he mumbled to himself. "I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I know, even with all the trouble I've put us through, that I made my decision a long time ago. It's you. It's always been you—from the very beginning. It's like, if the whole world ended, and you were all I had left, I'd be okay. Because I'd have you. But if… If you disappeared from my life, and everything else stayed like it was…" He closed his eyes, as if it were too painful a thing to finish the sentence.

I understood what he was saying immediately, of course. We'd both had a taste of that second alternative, after all. I could not contest even one part of his speech. Every word he'd said was irrefutable, because, of course, I felt the very same way.

He lifted his hand to the other side of my face, and I let my eyelids flutter shut, basking in the heat coming off his palms. Though I had never been a fan of Wuthering Heights, I'd read the book just for the sake of having read it—there was never enough reading material in my world. I'd always found the characters to be deplorable creatures, selfish and crass. But I was beginning to understand certain parts of certain characters.

"I _cannot_ live without my life," I quoted without opening my eyes, "I _cannot_ live without my soul." Truly, Beau made up every compartment of whatever was left of my soul—the soul he'd managed, somehow, to resurrect.

He had changed me so completely, so unchangeably, and all for the better.

"Exactly," he breathed when I opened my eyes.

A long moment passed between us, and Beau's eyes stayed locked on mine.

"And so…" he finally said, and to my surprise, he pulled away from me, rising to his feet. I stared up at him in confusion as he extended his hand toward me. I let him pull me to my feet, watching him questioningly.

For a minute, he did nothing but stare at my face. That same fathomless depth in his eyes had returned—brilliant sapphire jewels, the fiercest of viridian flames…

As I watched, Beau sank to one knee.

I opened my mouth to say something—what, I didn't know. Maybe to insist I really didn't need a ring, that he hadn't needed to go through the trouble of acquiring one.

But all of that faded as he produced a ring from his pocket. The solitaire diamond, framed by delicate filigree, glinted in the sunlight. It was the same, slim-banded ring I'd seen in Archie's vision, and Charlie's memory, but it was somehow, impossibly, more beautiful in person.

"Edythe, my grandfather gave me this ring after my great-grandma died when I was eleven. He told me to give it to the girl I knew without a doubt I would spend the rest of my life with. At the time, I didn't even see it as a possibility—you know, girls weren't really on my radar yet…

"But then I met you, and Gramps's request seemed all-of-a-sudden reasonable. I'll do him one better, and if you say yes, I'll spend the rest of eternity doing whatever I can to make you happy—including the biggest, fanciest wedding this podunk town has ever seen…"

I laughed, a little breathless.

"Edythe Anne Cullen… Will you marry me?"

I could not find my voice. My eyes burned, and my throat was thick with emotion. I blinked at the discomforting sensation behind my eyes, and a small, gasping breath escaped me. "Yes," I finally breathed, barely audible, "Of course I will!"

It was only as he slid the ring onto my finger that I realized his hands were shaking. Mine might have been too, if I were human.

Then he stood, encircling me in his arms. He pressed his lips softly, reverently, to mine once, and then twice.

"That's for two lifetimes with you," he murmured against my mouth, "And it will still only be the beginning."

I burrowed my cheek against his precious heart, and held my hand out so I could admire the ring.

"It's beautiful," I said. "Your grandfather's mother's?"

"Yeah. I guess it's vintage, or antique or whatever. But I thought that suited you better than something modern. That, and I knew you probably wouldn't appreciate me blowing my college tuition on something from Tiffany's."

I laughed, unable to feel anything _but_ appreciation in this moment—and awe, and love, and wonder, and unending gratitude… "You're probably right…"

We stood there for another indeterminable length of time, happy just to hold each other in easy silence.

Eventually, I could contain my curiosity no longer. "A summer wedding?" I asked, tipping my head back to gaze up at him.

"Sure," he said, "I was thinking mid-August, maybe? Archie probably already knows the exact date… That gives me a month-ish till my birthday. Enough time for a little breathing room."

I pursed my lips at him. "You must be the _only_ man on earth I've ever seen so worried about his age—and you've not even reached your twenties yet!"

His expression turned contemplative. "You know, I don't think it's even about that," he said thoughtfully. Then he shrugged. "I've chosen my life—I'm ready to start living it."

Tender joy overwhelmed me, and I touched my lips to the edge of his jaw. "The guest list?" I whispered, and he shivered when my cool breath washed over his throat. "The flowers, the party? You're really going to let me and Archie plan all of that? We could get pretty reckless, you know. We've had a long time to theorize."

He laughed. "Honestly, whatever makes you happy… But maybe…" His voice turned hesitant.

"Anything you want."

"I don't know if… Jules should get an invitation… It sounds cruel when I say it like that, but… I don't know if she would feel like… like she _should_ come, no matter how much it would hurt her…" A deep crease puckered his forehead.

As I listened to him struggle to push aside his own desires, I realized that there was so much more about this picture that I didn't understand. Just days ago, Beau had been terrorized by the thought of even a small family wedding—now he was willing to go the whole nine yards, _just_ to make me happy? The thought was undeniably flattering, but still… I had to wonder if there was something else he wasn't telling me.

I pulled him back down onto the ground and rolled until his back was pressed into the grass and our chests were flush. "Tell me why you're doing this, Beau. Why now? It can't _just_ be to make me happy."

He paused briefly, his eyes roaming my face as he gathered his thoughts. "I decided it wouldn't be fair to keep my parents out of this. They've raised me, watched me grow, and after the conversation I had with my dad last night, before I went down to see Jules…" His face lapsed into a mask of sudden indecision, and he shook his head. "My dad was all upset, all freaked out, about losing me, and I just… I can't leave them like that, y'know? Without answers, without them knowing that I'm… I'm happy." He squeezed me tighter. "I guess the best way to do that is to throw a big, giant party." He grinned, but for the first time, I did not smile with him.

I could see now that this separation was hurting him, tearing him up by the roots. None of his justification had been for his own reasons, and I wished he would be more _selfish_ for a moment. None of this was for him—he was only looking out for my happiness, and his father's assurance, and his mother's joy…

He wanted to give me the wedding I'd dreamed of, all of the traditions I wanted, but I wanted none of it if he didn't want it, too.

What good was starting a life together if all of it was just a big show? If none of it was genuine? And for Beau, I knew it would be that way. As dapper and exquisite as he would look in a tux, he'd be fidgeting and tugging at the collar the whole time. As deeply as he'd stare into my eyes as he said his vows, he would still be hyper-aware of all the eyes on him. As much as he despised dancing, he would do it for me— _just_ for me.

So many things had been made clear and unclear over the course of just a few days, but there were two things now I knew with the utmost of sincerity: Beau had chosen me, and he wanted to start that life with me as soon as possible.

The clarity struck me like a lightening bolt. How long had I spent trying to make his decisions for him? How stridently had I attempted to coerce him into my way of thinking? Maybe it was time I saw things from _his_ point of view. Maybe it was time I stopped fighting so hard.

"I'm withdrawing our bargain," I said abruptly.

Beau's eyes widened with shock. "Huh? No—!"

I braced my hands against his shoulders, shifting my knee to the other side of his hip. My stomach was a whirling vortex of nervousness and exhilaration as I silenced his protestations with my lips.

The only thing I had refused to give him had been the one thing he'd wanted more than anything else. Maybe _this_ was the key to everything else. If I gave in now to the request he'd made the night before the battle preparations, maybe everything else would suddenly make itself clear.

"I'm not bowing out, Beau," I promised him, "My side of the deal will still be upheld. But you have no more obligations; whatever you want, it's yours. No strings attached, no bargaining, no compromising."

His baffled eyes searched mine. " _Why_?"

"Beau, I can see what you're doing. As _always_ , you're putting everyone else's desires ahead of your own. And I want you to listen to me when I say this…" I fixed my eyes intently on his. "I don't _care_ about anyone else's feelings. All I care about are _yours_. I want _you_ to be happy, because while you are happy, I am too."

"But I—"

"No, no." I shook my head frantically. "We're doing this your way, because mine, obviously, hasn't worked very well for us so far. I call _you_ obstinate, but look how stubborn _I've_ been! For so long, I've clung with such senseless tenacity to my idea of what's best for you, but look at how it's hurt you! Time and time again, each time the laceration slicing deeper… I don't trust myself anymore, so let's do this your way. Tonight, today. The sooner the better. I'll talk to Carine. I was thinking: if we give you enough morphine, it might make the transformation easier. It's worth a shot." I tried to hide my paralyzing, desperate fear over the likely inevitability of his pain, but I didn't think I quite succeeded.

"Edythe—"

I crushed my lips to his, once again silencing his dissent. "Don't worry," I murmured, trailing my lips across his cheek and down the sculpted edge of his jawline, "I haven't forgotten your other requests."

 _It can't be so very difficult_ , I reasoned with myself as I moved my lips against his with urgency—an urgency which he immediately responded to. After all, I'd overcome so many of the other things I thought I couldn't.

His sweet kisses, the feel of his hands, one in my hair, the other on my waist, and his supple body underneath me were immediately all I could focus on. Why had I resisted this for so long? I wondered. The sensations coursing through my body were irrefutably pleasant. I had never felt more capable, more sure of myself.

 _Here_ , I thought as his succulent breath filled my mouth and throat, _Here is where my home is._

Hazy lust was like a thick, perfumed fog in my brain, and soon, our affections were all that mattered, all that existed. I lifted myself above him and pulled my jacket from my shoulders, reaching for the buttons on my blouse next.

His hands were gripping my hips so tightly, it was impossible to think he didn't want me just as much as I wanted him in this moment, but I began to wonder at that when he shook his head, very slightly, seeming to clear his head. The sensual haze in his eyes dissipated as he encircled my wrists in his fingers, tugging them away from my body.

"Wait, Edythe," he whispered huskily. The emotion in his eyes was so desirable; I felt a warm ache in the deepest part of my stomach.

"Why?" I purred, ducking down to skim my nose along his carotid artery, breathing in his lusciousness. I pressed my lips to his soft skin, feeling his heat reverberate against my mouth and face, warming me immediately. "I love you," I murmured against the hollow of his collarbone, "I want you." I slipped my fingers just underneath the hem of his t-shirt, feeling the forgivable, soft skin at his waistline. "Right now."

He groaned quietly, and then pulled me tighter to his chest, rolling until he was leaning over me. My shirt gaped at the collar, revealing more of my skin than he'd ever seen before.

"Stop, _please_ ," he begged, his hands still gripping my wrists.

I sighed, and closed my eyes—trying not to let the sting of rejection pierce my heart. A moment later, Beau released my hands and sat up. I felt him pinch the neckline of my shirt in between his fingers, covering the cleavage I'd exposed, carefully, without touching my skin, and then he rolled onto his back beside me.

For a minute, we said nothing; we simply lay there, catching our breaths.

"Why?" I asked again, listening to his heart knock, almost violently, against his ribs. "Why not? And don't tell me it's all about me."

I heard him pull himself up to sit and then felt when he cradled my left hand in his. "This is important to me, Edythe… I want to do this right."

"Who's definition of right?" I challenged.

"Mine," he said firmly.

I opened my eyes then, staring up into his face, which was perfectly serious and clear now. He must have seen the doubt in my expression.

"I'm serious," he insisted, "I want to do this responsibly, everything in the right order… And believe me when I say I _will_ tie myself to you in every way humanly possible before you change me." He leaned in close, his gloriousness filling my every sense. "Your soul is _way_ too important for me to take chances with," he whispered fiercely, and then kissed my forehead.

I sighed and narrowed my eyes at him. "You don't fight fair, Beau Swan."

A beautiful smile stretched across his face. "Never said I did, future Mrs. Swan."

And just like that, everything else washed away, and there was only joy to greet us now. Joy, which was now breaking through the clouds in the form of moisture.

Beau glared at the rain clouds.

"I'll get you home," I promised, reaching up to brush a raindrop from his cheek. It was far too reminiscent of the many tears he'd cried last night.

He sighed, seeming to resign himself to something. "Rain's not the problem."

"Then what?"

He leaned forward, and kissed the ring that would stay forever on the third finger of my left hand. When he lifted his eyes to mine, he said, fatalistically, "Who do you want to tell first?"

I grinned. I had been waiting for this very moment. "My parents, of course."

Beau shook his head. "Too late. They already know."

I felt the confusion on my face.

"That's what Earnest and I were talking about on our 'walk'," Beau explained, making air quotes with his fingers, "I knew if I was going to do this right, it as obvious I'd ask for your hand in marriage."

I threw my arms around his neck, and buried my face in his neck. "Oh, Beau. You didn't have to do that!"

"Try not to get caught up in antiquated gender rolls," he murmured, humor dancing in his voice.

I laughed into his shoulder, absolutely overwhelmed with elation—but also a sobering sense of concreteness.

I had been waiting to find this confidence for so long, and it had finally come. I knew with no small amount of certainty that we could move forward together now, and soon we would become one—one soul, one body, one life.

I could hardly wait.

.

 **A/N:** Okay, I have so many people to thank for the completion of this addition to the series… But I couldn't possibly name them all. Thank you to my husband for withstanding my weird writing moods (let's just say I get in the zone haha!) and, as always, for inspiring Beau's lovely blue eyes (sigh…)

Thanks to all of YOU guys, my wonderful readers and supporters! Thanks to all the readers who don't have time to review, and a special thanks to all the ones who do. Your feedback means the world to me, and it truly keeps me going.

Thanks for the various writer's I've used as sounding boards/guides/confidantes, etc. Thank you, thank you.

I'm so pleased to have gotten this far, and I can't wait to get started on the next installation!

Please make sure you all have me on AUTHOR ALERT, so you don't miss the first chapter of the next installation!

And last but not least, Dulcet Devotion (aka Breaking Dawn Reimagined, Edythe's POV) has its playlist up on 8tracks, so if you're interested in hearing the musical inspirations behind my writing, go on and check it out!: 8tracks wintersunshine/dulcet-devotion-part-1


	25. Outtake: Runaway

**A/N:** I debated over posting this for awhile—but figured I'd do it anyway. It answers some questions about certain things (wedding invites, Julie's decision-making processes, etc) so I figured I'd post it, but as an Outtake versus an Epilogue? I don't know if that makes sense. I just feel that if I were to post it as an Epilogue, it would mean it was a vital part to Edythe's story, which it's not, so an outtake was a better option?

.

 **Outtake: Runaway**

 **Julie Black**

 **.**

"When are you finally gonna get over this kid, Jules?"

I felt my jaw clench, my back teeth grinding together.

Like everyone else in the pack, Lee knew everything about everyone's issues. He knew why I was sitting here now—at the very edge of the earth and sky and sea. He knew I wanted to be alone; more than anything, it was all I wanted.

He knew, and yet—he'd come anyway. Because he knew it would bother me.

Despite the annoyance which surged in my chest like the tide, I felt self-assured for the tiniest of instants. I felt smug, because the idea of controlling my temper hadn't even entered my mind. Instead, the restraint just came naturally, like I'd been born with superior self-control. I didn't see red, the feathery heat didn't shiver down my spine and out my ribs like unearthly wings; I was calm, controlled.

 _Thanks, Grandma Enli…_

Even my voice, smooth and cool, didn't betray the rage the rest of my pack fought so hard to control. "Jump off a cliff, Lee." I pointed to the craggy waves and sharp rocks twenty feet below us. It wouldn't _kill_ him, but it'd take him—I don't know, a day? Maybe two?—to heal. And that would satisfy me well enough.

Lee ignored the jab, sprawling in the dirt next to me and throwing his arms behind his head. Getting comfy, I guessed. He was settling in for a long afternoon of teasing and bullying. "Really, kid. You have no idea how hard this is on me."

"Oh, boo-hoo," I snapped at him. "I'm sorry I'm shattering your disgustingly bigheaded ideal that the sun revolves around _you_. Screw off."

Lee only scowled blackly at me, his thick brows pulling down over his eyes. Once, I'd considered him good-looking, but that was a long time ago. No one thought of him in that way anymore, not since he'd joined the pack. No one except for Sam, that is. She would never forgive herself for the pain she'd put him through, as if it were her fault he'd turned out to be this vindictive jackass.

His scowl intensified, as if he could guess at what I was thinking. Probably could.

"I don't even _like_ the kid," he complained, "And you've got me devastated over the frickin' leech-lover like I'm all in love with him, too. Can you see where that might be a _little…_ Confusing? This shit is taking a serious hit on me. First, I run around all day with a bunch of girls, and then I dream of _kissing_ the guy at night. What the hell am I supposed to do with _that_?"

I snorted. " _I_ don't care."

"All I'm saying is," he said, almost cavalier, though I knew better, "it's time to get over the guy. He's _marrying_ the thing—that's, y'know, pretty damn serious… And then she'll try to change him into one of 'em… I would have given up hope a long fricken' time ago."

"Shut _up_ ," I spat at him, feeling a spark of heat spike down my spine and settle in my hips, crackling and flickering there. I was going to _try_ to be nice—it would be wrong to even the score… But if the asshole didn't let up, he'd regret it.

"According to all the legends, he's doomed before it's started. Chances are, she'll kill him anyway." He shrugged, as if this detail didn't matter to him in the least. "Maybe they should be planning a funeral instead of a wedding." He snorted with derisive humor.

The metallic taste of pennies filled my mouth, and this time, I had to clench my eyes shut to control the rage. The heat prickled from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, flashing in the tips of my fingers. I could feel the ground trembling underneath me, and I knew that was because my core was shaking so hard—trying to tear itself apart and take another shape while the rest of me struggled so bad to keep it together.

When I opened my eyes, Lee was smirking at my hands, watching them shake.

 _Screw_ him. I'd had it.

"If you're so distraught about having feelings for another guy, how do you think the rest of us like looking at Sam through your eyes? It's bad enough that Elliot has to deal with _your_ obsession. He doesn't need the rest of us salivating over her, too."

The anger was a physical force inside my body, but still, I felt guilty when pain flashed across Lee's features. I'd got him right between the armor plates, where I knew it would hurt most. I watched as the offense quickly gave way to rage, distorting his features.

He leapt to his feet, pausing only to spit a few choice words in my direction, and then wheeled for the trees, his shape already quaking apart at the seams.

I laughed sardonically. "You, too."

I'd get a reaming from Sam for that move, but I really didn't care at this point in time. It had been worth the hit, and I knew the repercussion had done its job. No way Lee would bother me anymore…

But I guess it had the effect he'd wanted—his words coursed through my brain like sandpaper on skin, abrasive and relentless. The agony the reminder brought on made my chest tight, made my stomach ache, made my eyes prick with stupid, stupid tears.

When it came down to it, I didn't care so much that Beau had chosen _her_ over me. Of course, it hurt like hell knowing it, but still—it was nothing compared to the other agonies. The ones I would have to live with for the rest of my stupidly long life. Stupid shape-shifting perks… Didn't feel so much like perks right now…

What mattered was that he was sacrificing _everything_ for some half-life with the bloodsucker. He'd let his heart stop, he'd let his skin petrify, and his head twist into some iced killer's mind. He wouldn't be warm, soft, awkward Beau anymore; instead, he'd be a monster, a stranger. And that thought alone spurred so much misery that I didn't know if there was anything _worse_ than that… Except there was…

If she _killed_ him…

I couldn't finish the thought. The rage tore through me anew, blasting down my spine and out through my legs and arms. I curled my knees to my chest and pressed my forehead to them, fighting the urge.

But it was so _tempting_. Why shouldn't I let the fire change me? Why shouldn't I shift? Everyone knew the wolf's instincts overrode so many human emotions. Everyone knew it was easier to deal in wolf form. As the wolf, I wouldn't feel this ripping, tearing, aching pain in the same way. As the wolf, it would be different—on a baser level, at least.

But Lee was running now, and I _so_ didn't want to share his thoughts.

I cursed him under my breath again for stealing away that freedom, too.

So I did what I could to ease the tremors. I had to placate myself with the idea that Beau would somehow survive; it was the only way I'd ever be able to hold on to some shred of domination over the change. But how could I bring myself to trust that, if I couldn't trust the snake whose hands his life was in?

How could I know she'd be able to do it? How could I know she'd love him as much as I did? Of course I knew she did… The night in the tent, and the conversation that had ensued between us, had made denying that impossibility.

But the only way I could see that she would not kill him, was her success in changing him. And if she succeeded at that…

Beau wouldn't be _Beau_ anymore. He'd be incontestably different, and I had to wonder what kind of affect that would have on me. Would the pain knowing he'd survived as some half-alive demon corpse thing be different than the pain I'd go through if he _had_ died? If I saw him standing there in front of me, like some ice sculpture… Would he even remember what we'd shared while he was still human? Would _I_ be able to look at him in the same way? Or would the instinct to destroy be too much to overcome…? When his scent burned like bleach in my nose… When the instinctual urge to protect rose like the tide inside me…

Could I really want to kill him?

I struggled toward some kind of answer, some kind of mollification, as I watched the waves roll in from the ocean, listened to them crash over the beach and the rocks under the cliff I sat on.

I still hadn't solved anything by the time the sun had set, so I stood up, stretching my arms and legs—which had long ago healed. I tried not to think of that week for a lot of different reasons.

Instead, I focused on the hunger snarling in my stomach, and turned toward home in search of food. Unfortunately, Charlie had been with my mom the day of the 'motorcycle accident', and so I had a ruse to upkeep. I oriented my arm in the stupid sling, and grabbed the even stupider crutches. Props—that's all they were. I wedged the things under my arms and headed back for the res.

I regretted going home as soon as I walked in the door. The expression on my mom's face was impossible to hide, although she tried to act all blasé—like she always did when she wanted to talk about something.

 _Ugh_.

She had the food ready, so I grabbed a plate and headed over to the table, clunking down into a chair. In the kitchen, gathering her own food, she was already talking about nothing and everything.

"This morning's sunset was sure something, huh?" she was saying, "Spectacular. I drank my coffee on the porch and watched it flood the sky, all pinks and purples and oranges… And then I took care of some of that paperwork I'd been meaning to get to. Sam dropped by for awhile—nice to talk to her. Haven't seen much of her since… Well, you know… Ate a sandwich for lunch, had a little nap, and then Sean stopped by just a little while ago." Her voice rose in tenor, and as much as I concentrated on the food grinding up between my teeth, I couldn't drown her out. "Don't know how that man does it—keeps up with work, and the house, and those kids… 'Specially Lee. Sean would have made one hell of a wolf, but Lee… I'd call that kid more of a wolverine." She chuckled throatily at her own little joke.

I didn't respond, just waiting for the catch. I was practically inhaling the food by now, just hoping Sam would call me out—for _any_ reason at all. Really, I was willing to do anything to avoid this talk with my mom.

"Sarah's a little easier, I think," she was saying, "Of course, you were a lot easier than your brothers, too, until… well. At any rate, you had a lot more to deal with than they ever did."

I sighed and set down my fork. "Just get to the point, Mom, _please_."

She paused, and it was suddenly so quiet I could hear the click of the clock over the stove. "We got a letter today," she finally said. Something in her voice told me it wasn't another postcard from Aaron.

"A letter?" I prodded.

"Well… It's more a… A wedding invitation."

Again, the wild heat shot like a lightening bolt down my spine; I gripped the table to keep myself in one piece.

"There's a note inside that's addressed to you," she continued, as if she hadn't noticed my reaction. "I didn't read it."

She produced a thick ivory envelope from where she'd hidden it between her leg and the side of her wheelchair. She put it on the table and pushed it toward my plate. I only stared at it in disgust. I could smell the paper from here, and my nose was already on fire.

"You probably don't need to read it," she said now, "It doesn't really matter what it says, right?"

I huffed an exasperated sigh and plucked up the torn envelope. The paper I pulled from inside its contents was stiff and heavy, fancier than anything _I'd_ ever seen before. And the font printed on the invitation was done in some formal calligraphy. I knew in an instant this had all been _her_ doing. From the handwritten address to the see-through, petal-printed pages. I didn't read the words; what was the point?

Underneath the invite was another thick piece of paper, folded once in half. And on the back of it, my name was written in that same fancy handwriting. No way. Was she so cruel as to send me a _letter_? Was she going to gloat, now?

Feeling the furrow deepen between my brows, I picked it up and unfolded it.

.

 _Julie,_

 _I'm doing something I never thought I'd ever bring myself to do again—I'm going against Beau's wishes by sending you this. But I justified my actions by knowing it was better for you to know._

Better for me to know? What? That Beau didn't want me at his wedding?

 _He made it clear that he thought it would hurt you to have to decide whether to attend or not, but you deserve the choice, as painful as it may be. I know if he had chosen you instead of me, I would have appreciated the option._

 _I know simple words will never suffice, will never convey the words of gratitude I would like to say to you—the words I've said to you in the past, but never felt they did your actions and sacrifices justice. Thank you, Julie. For everything. For picking up the pieces of Beau I left shattered. For making him believe that maybe he could live a life without me. You were an incredible friend to him, Julie, in more ways than one. I know a part of him will always love you—perhaps not in the way you would have wanted, but there is a bond between you that I could never begin to dream of infringing on or replacing._

 _I promise I will take care of him, Julie. I'll spend the remainder of eternity doing everything I can to make him happy and whole._

 _I send you my sincerest regards and well wishes,_

 _Edythe_

.

"Jules—we only have the one table."

My eyes flicked from the page in my hand to my mom's face. She was staring with concern at my left hand, which I suddenly realized was gripping the edge of the table so hard the wood had begun to cave in.

I gasped, releasing the table in one, jerky movement. "Sorry," I whispered, coiling both hands to my chest so nothing else would be at risk of destruction.

"Don't worry about it," she insisted now, and the sincerity in her voice brought a lump into my throat. "Do you—" she started to say, but I was already standing, and on my way to the door.

I hoped Lee had gone home.

"Julie!" my mom called after me as I kicked the front door out of my way and vaulted myself over the porch railing. I broke into a jog before I was halfway to the trees, pulling off my t-shirt and dropping it in the grass behind me. I kicked my shoes off as I heard my mom's voice behind me, frantic with worry, but I ignored her as I ducked through the fringe of trees bordering the property.

It was an almost effortless thing now, to phase. After all, it was more instinct than anything else—and once I'd realized that, had connected to that part of myself, all the ensuing shifts had been easy, really. I followed my body's lead, closing the world out as I let that heat rake up and down my spine now, fill every cavity of my torso, stretching down my arms and legs, and then I was running on four legs.

Around me, the trees swam in a blur of jade, emerald and grey as I launched myself past them, not paying attention to my surroundings. I knew this territory like the back of my hand—well, paw.

I felt the rhythmic coil and release of my muscles as I stretched all four legs, hurling myself past fern and frond. If I wanted to, I could keep this pace up for days. The wolf body was different from my human body—even _if_ I had more endurance than I ever had before as a human. This heart pumped steadily, bracingly, the air puffing evenly in and out through my nostrils.

This body's muscles were lenient and flexible—strong and unyielding. This body was so much stronger than my human body—and my human body was pretty damn strong now.

I didn't have to stop for nothing, and nobody. Maybe I wouldn't.

But I wasn't alone.

 _I'm so sorry,_ Emma whispered in my head. Of course, she'd already seen my motivation for the shift. Nothing was off-limits in the pack mind.

Through her eyes, I recognized her surroundings, and knew she was more than two miles in the other direction from where I was heading. As I blinked between her vision and mine, I could see she was turning her agile, slim body around, winding between the trees, and now she was running south, intending to meet up with me.

My muzzle pulled away from my teeth as I let out a low snarl, pushing my legs harder.

 _Wait up,_ Quil complained. She didn't like to be left out, even _if_ she knew everything that was already going on. Quil was more… Involved than Emma, and though both of my best friends wanted to comfort me in whatever way they could, Quil had always managed to be more obnoxious about it. Unfortunately, she was closer, just leaving the village behind her.

 _Leave me alone!_

Their inescapable concern reverberated through my head—no matter how hard I tuned my physical ears into the natural cadence of my own surroundings. The wind in the trees and my fur, the scurry of wild animals, the twitter of birdsong, all of it and none of it was distracting enough to drown out my friends.

Inarguably, this was the part of being a wolf I hated the most. Seeing myself from their perspective—all the good things I found it hard to believe about myself, all the bad things I didn't want to acknowledge, but worst of all: the pity.

They saw, they heard, my anger, my disinclination, but they followed me anyway.

 _Don't shut yourself off from us,_ Emma begged, _You_ _ **need**_ _us at times like these!_

 _Don't go!_ Quil added beseechingly. _C'mon, Jules—you have to face this!_

Just then, a new voice sounded in my head, the arpeggio of her voice a resonating, inarguable echo.

 _Let her go._

Sam's thought was soft, and I could see, more than pity, more than concern, the empathy in her thoughts.

Emma and Quil slowed to a walk, relinquishing the chase, but I still couldn't block out what they were thinking, what they were seeing. As they processed everything from this afternoon, I wished more than anything that I could _just be alone_! But in order to do that, to avoid the scrutiny and the grating compassion, I would have to phase back… And I couldn't subject myself to that misery anymore.

Especially not now, not after tonight. Somehow, Edythe's letter had made everything worse, and a quiet, still part of me knew she hadn't intended for me to take it that way, but the more dominant side of me snarled and growled with frustration as I kicked up mulch behind me.

What would they do if I ran to the Cullen house, intent on ripping her head off? But even as I thought the words, I knew I couldn't do it. It would hurt Beau too much…

So I turned the other way, heading toward the Canadian border.

 _Phase back,_ Sam told the girls, _I'll pick you up, Emma._

Emma's was the first consciousness to fade from my head. A moment later, Quil grudgingly did the same. Then it was just me and Sam.

 _Thank you,_ I told her.

 _Of course,_ she thought, _I understand what you're going through, to an extent… Take your time to sort through things. Come home when you can._

The words steadily faded in volume, trailing off into blankness as she shifted back to her human form as well.

Then, I was truly alone.

I sighed in relief, the sounds I'd been trying so hard to hear finally filling my ears. The scrape and shift of forest bracken under my feet, the whisper of an owl's wings spreading as she launched from a bough high above my head, the gentle swish of the ocean's wave—far, far in the west… And there was nothing else to fill my head.

There was nothing else to feel but speed, the rhythmic contraction of my muscles, sinew and bone, working together in perfect harmony as the miles scraped away behind me.

I didn't know where I was going, or how long I'd be gone for, but for now, the silence in my head was too comfortable to leave behind. Maybe I never _would_ leave it behind. That would be a first—a shape-shifter staying forever in wolf form… I wondered at that. Would I eventually lose the ability to turn back? Could I forget everything, truly leave it behind?

Well, I was sure as hell going to try.

I pushed my legs faster, letting Julie Black, all her pain, all her heartache, and all her sorrow, melt away behind me.

.

 **A/N:** And that's it! Keep your eye out for the first installation of Dulcet Devotion this week, and like I said last chapter, make sure you have me on AUTHOR ALERT, so you don't miss it ;)

Thanks again, you guys, for all the support!

I had a question from a reader about why Beau's reaction to Julie was so much more violent than to Edythe… And I feel like he explained it a little bit, but maybe not to the best of everyone's understanding. Beau realizes that the love he has for Julie is different than the love he has for Edythe. It's human, it's raw, it's visceral… But he's formed a supernatural bond with a supernatural creature as a human—and it's forever changed him, on a very, very deep level. He literally canNOT live without Edythe… Whereas with Julie, he certainly CAN, but it's painful because it's a vital part of him (the relationship he and Jules formed, not even necessarily the romantic side of it) and he's had to root it out in order to move on with the life and destiny he has not only chosen, but has no other choice but to move forward with. Hope that helps explain things :)

See ya guys soon!


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